







LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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Sh elf \+ 
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


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ANITY FAIR SERIES N?3. 


Issued Monthly 


PRICE, 50 CENTS. 
MAY 1891. X XX 

SubscripiioQ Price $ 4.00 per Year. 


NEW YORK 

EDWARD BRANDUS % 

PUBLISHERS, 30 BROAD STREET 


by/ 

jEORGE hash 

AUTHOR OF 

PHILIP HENSON.M.D 


ENTERED AT THE POST OFFICE.NEW YORK, AS SECOND CLASS MATTER- 








































































































































9 






HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 


AN INTERNATIONAL EPISODE. 


X 

GEORGE HASTINGS, 

n 7 

Author of “Philip Henson, M. D,” 


f 


6 o 

^SHINQtO^V^ 






NEW YORK 

EDWARD BRANDUS & CO. 

30 BROAD STREET. 

1891. 


Copyright, 1891, by 
EDWARD BRANDUS & CO. 
Rights of Dramatization Reserved. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK I. 

A TRIP TO EUROPE. 

Chap. Page 

I. A New World Money King 5 

II. An Old World Highness 21 

III. “In the Name of the Law!”. 33 

IV. That Guilty Heel 40 

V. “Where the Deuce is Chicago?” 49 

VI. A Royal Rebel 61 

BOOK II. 

UNDER FALSE COLORS. 

Chap. Page 

I. The American Minister’s Ball 70 

II. The Witch’s Cave 87 

III. A Page from History., 108 

IV. In Dangerous Depths 126 

V. A Flying Rumor 148 

VI. Mme. de Colligny’s Hospitality 164 


IV 


CONTENTS, 


BOOK III. 

THE MAN FROM THE WEST. 

Chap. Page 

I. A Call from Beyond the Seas 172 

II. Mrs. Patterson’s Story 182 

III. “This Vengeance is Mine!”.... 193 

IV. Justice without Her Bandage 203 

V. A Question of Cash 211 

VI. Man to Man 216 

VII. The Insult at the Club 223 

VIII. A Tragic Episode 230 

IX. Gleaned from the Press 234 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 
BOOK I. 

A TRIP TO EUROPE. 

CHAPTER I. 

A NEW WORLD MONEY KING. 

The establishment of John Parker Hepworth, 
pork packer and wholesale dealer in canned 
meats and choice lards, (see advertisements in the 
daily papers of the famous “ Clover Leaf Brand ”) 
occupies the corner of a block in one of Chicago’s 
most important business thoroughfares. At 
some little distance to the north is the vast 
clothing emporium of Willoughby, Hill & Co., 
and in the immediate neighborhood are many 
of Chicago’s greatest and best known business 
houses. 

In an ordinary way, the Hepworth establish- 
ment differs little from the other big institutions 
of the kind in its vicinity, except perhaps that 
it is a little larger, a little more aggressively 
important, and that its general air of prosperous 


6 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


solidity is a trifle more pronounced, owing, 
doubtless, to the big, arching doorways, the 
width of the glittering plate glass windows, and 
the great granite blocks, their severity relieved 
only by the white stone copings, which 
compose the facade of the two lower stories. 
Still, whatever be the causes, certain it is that 
the establishment presents the appearance of a 
model business house — strong, substantial, solid 
— and Chicagoans are wont, to quote a favorite 
editorial expression of the local press, to “ point 
with pride ” to the big Hepworth Building as 
one of Chicago's notable structures. 

Not for a moment, however, must it be inferred 
that the business of John Parker Hepworth, pork 
packer and general dealer in canned meats and 
choice lards, of the widely advertised “ Clover 
Leaf Brand,” is confined to this establishment, 
alone. This is merely the headquarters, embrac- 
ing the general offices, the sample rooms, and a 
part of the canned goods department. Away 
out, scattered in various directions through the 
outskirts of the city, are immense stock-yards, 
vast warehouses and even vaster packing establish- 
ments, all dedicated to the interests of the 
“ Clover Leaf Brand” in particular, and to the 


A NEW WORLD MONEY KING. 7 

business of John Parker Hepworth in gen- 
eral. 

And then, there are the slaughter houses. It 
would never do to forget the slaughter houses — 
to Chicago a source of pride and a joy forever! 
Of these slaughter-houses, in which thousands of 
obese, but innocent hogs weekly yield up their 
lives, fabulous stories are narrated, it being 
asserted that the machinery of these establish- 
ments has been brought to such a point of per- 
fection that within precisely two minutes and 
thirty-nine seconds after a hog enters the “ death 
chute,” he comes out at the other end of the 
building neatly transformed into appetizing 
sausages, duly seasoned and in complete con- 
dition for the market. 

Nor are Mr. John Parker Hepworth’s posses- 
sions limited to the big business building in the 
city’s center, the stock-yards, the warehouses, 
the packing establishments and last, but not least, 
the slaughter houses. In the far, far West, alike 
in the wild regions of Wyoming, along the slopes 
of Nevada’s hills, and in the fertile plains of 
Texas he owns vast ranches grazed over by 
almost countless herds, all branded with the H., 
surmounted by a clover leaf, the trade-mark of 


8 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


the great Hepworth system, and destined to 
eventually find their way first to the great stock- 
yards in the outskirts of Chicago, and later still 
into cans of larger or smaller dimensions, which 
will bear the self-same H., surmounted by a 
clover leaf, as now marks the hide covering their 
well-fed flanks. 

In a word, Mr. John Parker Hepworth controls 
one of the most far-reaching and important busi- 
ness enterprises of the West, and is one of 
Chicago’s most prominent, most wealthy, and, 
what does not always necessarily follow, most 
popular citizens. 

It is a bright May morning, one of those deli- 
cious mornings of the early spring, and although 
it lacks a good half hour of ten o’clock Mr. 
Hepworth is already seated at his desk in his 
private office in the main establishment. As he 
sits there in the full light of this bright May day 
he presents the appearance of a man whose fifty 
years have passed very lightly over his head. 
Above the middle height, erect of carriage and 
strongly built, the well-preserved and firmly 
knit figure carries a suggestion of athletic elastic- 
ity and ease. His face, clean shaven, save for 
short, carefully trimmed iron gray side whisk- 


A NEW WORLD MONEY KING. 9 

ers, and bronzed by exposure to the western 
winds during his frequent visits to his ranches, 
is marked by great determination and strength — 
a face which might perhaps be aptly described as 
leonine, with the short, wavy hair rising grandly 
above the forehead almost like the crest of a mane, 
the deep brown eyes, rather pensive in expression, 
the tightly compressed lips, and the powerful 
lower jaw. Decidedly the face of a strong man ; 
one capable of being generous, kind, perhaps 
even tender; above all, bold, resolute, brave ; but 
the face, too, of one dangerous to cross, obstinate 
in his enmity. 

And in this instance the outward appearance 
is a truthful index to the inner man. In Chicago 
he is known as a shrewd, bold business operator, 
not to be frightened by the magnitude of an 
undertaking however great ; a money-king who 
has risen to his present greatness by dint of 
brains and work and will ; a citizen ever ready to 
come to the front financially in any public- 
spirited cause ; a man whose word is his bond, 
but of whom it is ill-advised to make a foe, and 
who once believing himself wronged will spare 
neither effort nor money to drive his enemy to 
the wall. 


10 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


Among the cowboys on the Western plains he 
is almost as well known as in Chicago, and they 
know him as a just man and one without fear; a 
hunter whose iron muscles seem to never feel 
fatigue ; a rider who can upon occasion tame the 
wildest mustang turned out from the corral, and 
a shot, alike with revolver or rifle, who can rival 
the very best marksmen among them. 

Vague rumors of his physical powers are rife 
even in Chicago. It is told of him how, one 
night, being attacked by two footpads he 
knocked one senseless and chastised his com- 
panion in such vigorous fashion that the latter’s 
cries for aid finally attracted the attention of the 
police. It has leaked out, too, how upon 
another occasion, some years ago, he thrashed 
a big bully of the stock-yards, whom he had 
caught in the act of shamefully ill-using a horse, 
and who, inflamed with drink and not knowing 
the master, had replied insolently to his imperi- 
ous order to desist. 

However this may be, on this particular morn- 
ing, dressed in neat fitting cutaway coat of dark 
material, he looks the quiet man of business, 
calm, thoughtful, and not without a certain dig- 
nity. Scattered before him in little heaps on his 


A NEW WORLD MONEY KING. 


II 


desk are telegrams and letters from all parts o.f 
the country, to which he has just given his per- 
sonal attention and has dictated the replies to a 
stenographer, who has retired with a bookful of 
notes. Now, his general manager, white-haired 
but active, is bustling about him seeking direc- 
tions on various matters of such importance as to 
render desirable the personal decision of the 
head of the house. 

“ The Altonburgh & Denbigh branch road, sir,” 
declares the manager, consulting a batch of pa- 
pers in his hand, “ quotes us a rate for transpor- 
tation even with that at present granted us by 
the Sante Fe. The Altonburgh & Denbigh’s 
facilities are somewhat better and the route 
shorter by a hundred and twenty miles than that 
of the Santa F£. Shall we accept, say a six 
months contract ? ” 

The head of the house reflects for an instant. 

“ No, Mr. Jennings, no,” he answers, presently, 
in a deep, full voice, and with just a suggestion 
of that broadness of accent peculiar to certain 
parts of the West, “ we experienced a good deal 
of difficulty in our dealings with these Altonburgh 
and Denbigh people prior to the establishment of 
the opposition. Nothing could have been more 


12 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


high-handed or indifferent than the behavior of 
these people when the game was in their hands. 
Our turn now. We will continue with the opposi- 
tion. You will find them quoting a still lower 
rate, I think, before the snow flies.” 

Mr. Jennings bows in acquiescence. 

“ The superintendent of the Monterey Ranch 
reports a serious scarcity of feed owing to the 
failure of the last rainy season, and suggests put- 
ting the entire stock on stubble, which can 
be had two hundred and fifty miles further 
north.” 

“ On what terms ? ” 

“ A dollar and a quarter an acre, sir.” 

“Approved. Let him engage three thousand 
acres.” 

“ Caiman & Stetson, our attorneys at Albu- 
querque, write that there is a flaw in the title of 
the Sierra Madre tract, embracing sixteen thous- 
and acres, and that if we push our claim energeti- 
cally we shall undoubtedly succeed in acquiring 
possession and securing an order from the courts 
dispossessing the settlers at present on the land. 
Morally, there is no doubt a big question in 
favor of the settlers, but legally every point is on 
our side. Caiman & Stetson, in view of the great 


A NEW WORLD MONEY RING. 1 3 

hardships which would result from the disposs- 
ession of these settlers, suggests some slight com- 
promise/’ 

“ I will consent to no such compromise.” 

“Are our attorneys, then, to be directed to act ? ” 

“ They are to be instructed to discontinue all 
proceedings at once.” 

“ But,” protests Mr. Jennings, “ there is a con- 
siderable amount involved in this transaction, 
and legally we are unquestionably in the right.” 

“ I care nothing about the legal part of it. 
Law and equity, it is my experience, are only too 
often very wide apart. The right or wrong of 
the thing is all I care about. It would certainly 
be a gross injustice, a shameful cruelty, to take 
advantage of the technical points against these 
settlers. I will have nothing to do with such a 
move. Order Caiman & Stetson to discontinue 
all further action at once.” 

Again Mr. Jennings bows and passes to other 
topics. 

Questions appertaining to the leasing or pur- 
chasing of vast tracts of land, contracts with rail- 
roads, matters of law involving tens upon tens of 
thousands of dollars, purchases of stock in this 
and that enterprise having affiliations with the 


H 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


pork packing and canned meat industry, all these 
subjects are taken up in rapid and almost bewil- 
dering succession and disposed of with a prompt- 
ness, clear-headedness and decision which are 
ever characteristic of the management of the 
affairs of this great house. 

At last Mr. Jennings arrives at the end of the 
batch of papers in his hand and the head of the 
house gives a sigh of relief. 

“ Is that all for this morning, Mr. Jennings?” 
he asks. 

“ All, sir.” 

“ Glad of it ! I am anxious to be at leisure. 
My daughter starts for Europe to-day with her 
aunt. She is to drop in here for a moment on 
her way to the depot, just for a parting word. I 
want to get a last glimpse of my little girl, you 
know.” 

The whole face of the man suddenly softens, 
and there is just a suspicion of moisture in the 
widely-opened brown eyes. 

“ It’s the first time she’s been away from me 
for any length of time,” he continues. “ I con- 
fess I hate to see her go.” 

“ Why let her go, then ? ” suggests the practi- 
cal Mr. Jennings. 


A NEW WORLD MONEY KING. 1 5 

“Well, it seems all the craze now to visit 
Europe and I don’t want through any selfishness 
on my part to mar her pleasure. Most of the 
young girls of her set have already been to 
Europe ; why not she ? Besides, owing to the 
companionship of her aunt, the opportunity is a 
specially good one.” 

At this juncture a clerk enters with a message 
for Mr. Jennings and, his presence being required 
in some other part of the establishment, he hastily 
withdraws. Left alone, Mr. Hepworth leans 
back in his chair and stares meditatively before 
him for some moments. Then, leaning forward, 
he opens a drawer and brings forth two little 
frames which he places on the desk before him. 
Each frame contains a photograph — photo- 
graphs of two women bearing such a marked 
resemblance the one to the other that the exist- 
ence of some relationship between them is 
apparent at a glance. Such is, in fact, the case. 
They are the likenesses of his wife and daughter — 
the former lost to him in the first flush of her young 
womanhood, shortly after the birth of the latter. 

He sits there looking at these two photographs, 
the one so like to the other, and a flood of reminis- 
cence wells up within him. How like is the Edith 


1 6 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

of to-day to his lost Zelma of twenty years ago ! 
It is as if the unkind fate which had robbed him 
of his wife had, relenting, restored her to him, in 
a measure, in the daughter. Looking back 
through the long vista of years he can recall as 
vividly as if it had been only yesterday the night 
when she passed from him and all earthly cares — 
glided from between the strong arms entwined 
about her as if to keep her by main force to earth 
and him — her last faintly whispered words : 
“ Jack, promise me, dear Jack, you will take good 
care of her. ” 

“ And right well has he kept his promise, this 
last promise to his dearly loved, his long and bit- 
terly mourned Zelma. Zealously has he watched 
that life should contain nothing save that which 
was bright and sweet for her daughter. Although 
skilfully and industriously angled after by many 
a fair widow or maid, he has never even thought 
of bringing another woman into his house to take 
her place, to take precedence of her child. Yes, 
her wish has been well observed ; so far no cloud 
has ever darkened Edith’s life — never shall, God 
willing ! as long as he is there to stand between 
her and harm. 

His reveries are interrupted by a sudden bustle 


A NEW WORLD MONEY KING. 1 7 

and commotion without ; and an instant later the 
door of the private office is pushed open and, 
amid a great rustling and frou-frou of feminine 
garments, a beautiful girl dressed in bewitching 
travelling costume trips gayly into the room. 
The term beautiful may assuredly with every pro- 
priety be applied to her. Tall and lithe, and 
very shapely, very white of skin and fair of hair, 
with a short, straight, pert little nose, a rosebud 
of a mouth, sunny brown eyes and a sweet 
mingling of stateliness and grace — such is Edith 
Zelma Hepworth, gay, happy and nineteen. 

She trips across the red carpeted room with 
quick little steps, the tip of a daintily booted foot 
peeping every now and then from beneath her 
dress. 

“ Don’t scold me, Pop,” she exclaims, as she 
advances towards him, “ for being late — I did try 
hard to get here sooner, but our carriage was 
caught in a blockade and delayed, oh ! ever so 
long.” 

He rises to greet her, a flush upon his face, a 
great yearning in his eyes. 

“ Scold you, my dear,” he cries, “ I certainly 
never felt less like doing that than to-day. I feel 
awfully blue over your going.” 


1 8 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

“ Poor Pop ! How I wish you were coming 
with us. How nice it would all be then.” 

“ Impossible just now, my dear,” he answers 
regretfully. “As Mr. Jennings was saying, the 
markets are very unsettled just at present.” 

“ The horrid markets ! There seems to be 
always something wrong with them.” 

He smiles, but attempts no reply to this sage 
commercial observation. 

“ I was hoping,” he remarks, “ that you 
would get here in time for us to have half an 
hour together before going, but,” glancing at his 
watch, “ I suppose it could not be helped and — 
you haven’t much time left now if you are to 
catch the eleven train. 

Both father and daughter looked at each other 
somewhat wistfully at this reference to their 
speedy parting. 

“ Be careful not to quite ruin me with those 
Paris fashions when you get over there,” he 
exclaims, with a not very successful attempt at 
levity. 

“ Very well, Pop. I’ll be careful,” she answers 
in a rather unsteady voice. 

“ Nonsense, girl,” he cries, fearful that she may 
by any chance have taken him seriously. “ Buy 


A NEW WORLD MONEY KING. 19 

whatever takes your fancy, my little one. When- 
ever you need funds draw on me through my 
correspondents in Paris, Hazard Freres, as I have 
already explained to you. You are sure you 
understand.’' 

“Yes, Pop.” 

She is oddly monosyllabic in her replies; she 
seems to be striving to keep something down in 
her throat. 

“ And now, dearie, you must go. As it is, you 
will have no time to spare to catch that train. I 
will take you to the carriage.” 

In spite of this warning, however, as to the 
progress of time, she still makes no move. 

“ I feel awfully blue over your going away 
from me,” he repeats in a low voice, more in 
answer to his own thoughts than to her. 

For a moment more she stands looking into 
his face and then, with a sudden movement, she 
is in his arms, her head nestling on his shoulder. 

“ So do I, Pop, and — and,” with a strong indica- 
tion of tearfulness in her tones, “ I’ve changed 
my mind. I — I — don’t want to go now. I don’t 
want to go away from you.” 

At this point she abandons further resistance 
and sobs outright. 


20 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“ Please go out to Aunt Kate,” she pleads, 
“ and tell her I’m not going. I’ve changed my 
mind; I want to stay here, with you.” 

He holds her to him very close, very tenderly. 
For an instant a vague longing, a wild impulse, 
comes to him to follow out his desire — her wish 
of the moment — and keep her with him at all 
costs. No, no ; comes the answering thought ; 
that would be mere selfishness. She is young ; 
she will enjoy herself so much amid the 
strange sights of foreign lands. No selfishness of 
his shall mar her pleasure ; the pleasure of his 
Zelma’s child. 

With a last, long, lingering caress he leads her 
out to the carriage and seats her beside her aunt. 
An instant latter, in obedience to his command, 
the coachman has whipped up his horses and is 
driving with all speed to the depot. 


CHAPTER II. 


AN OLD WORLD HIGHNESS. 

The sun of the hot June morning is high over 
Paris, and noon has come and gone, yet His 
Royal Highness, Prince Raoul Alexander, and his 
favorite confidant and friend, Baron Barr, are still 
seated over the breakfast table. Not such a late 
breakfast after all, however, in view of the fact 
that the Prince and his friend had not sought 
their respective couches on the preceding night 
until the first rays of the summer morning had 
shown themselves very distinctly and very unmis- 
takably in the east. 

The Prince, despite a somewhat indiscreet 
wooing of Pommery Sec during the night’s 
varied experiences, eats his breakfast with a 
heartiness and a relish that indicate a digestion 
of the very first order. Some scrambled eggs 
and a brace of lamb chops, washed down by the 
best part of a bottle of Sauterne, disappear in 
rapid succession, and now he is devoting his 
attention to a luscious bunch of grapes and a 


22 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


glass of cognac, with which to top off the meal. 
A very creditable effort this for a man who has 
disposed of a couple of quarts or more of Pom- 
mery Sec during the preceding “ wee sma’ 
hours,” to say nothing of a grievous mixture of 
sundry liqueurs, pousse-cafes and other highly 
palatable and highly treacherous combinations. 
But then, Raoul Alexander always had been 
blessed with a good digestion ; a digestion handed 
down to him as a sort of family heirloom from a 
long line of ancestors as part of the necessary 
stock in trade, so to speak, of royalty. 

As he leans carelessly back in his chair, dressed 
in a short lounging jacket with light blue facings, 
crunching the luscious fruit beneath his strong, 
white teeth, he presents by no means an un- 
comely appearance. A tall, well-knit figure, 
shoulders rather square and well thrown back, the 
bearing marked by a certain military stiffness par- 
ticularly affected by the Prussian school, large, 
straight and clearcut features, very light hair, light 
skin, a sweeping blonde moustache, and eyes of 
light blue shaded by long, fair lashes — these are 
the salient characteristics in His Highness’ personal 
appearance. Decidedly a good-looking man, His 
Highness, judged by the standard of ordinary 


AN OLD WORLD HIGHNESS. 23 

men ; a strikingly handsome man, judged from 
the standard of princedom and as princes run ; 
a man, too, who carries his thirty-five years right 
royally and right well and who does not look a 
day older than his actual age, which is certainly 
noteworthy in view of the fact that he has con- 
trived to jam into these five and thirty years 
fully double as much as the average human ex- 
periences in threescore and ten. 

Not a bad fellow either, the Prince, as princes 
go ! Genial, light-hearted, full of good humor 
and fun ; never posing as Prince among his inti- 
mates, but always ready to meet them on the 
common ground of conviviality and good fellow- 
ship. True, upon occasion, when it was a ques- 
tion of figuring in his princely quality before 
the public, he understood how to bear himself 
with a gravity and decorum, with a certain blend- 
ing of dignity and urbane condescension that 
showed he was indeed “ to the manner born ” and 
thoroughly understood the general business and 
make-up of a royal figurehead. Nor upon these 
serious occasions of state, when he was called upon 
to assume his princely mien, was his manner mere 
acting. In his inner consciousness he was hon- 
estly impressed with the conviction that the pro- 


24 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


fession of kingcraft has its obligations and de- 
mands ; that being “marked upon the brow ” with 
the “Divine right’' to rule, it was fitting that 
there should be that in his bearing which should 
suggest his semi-sacred character, his superiority 
over mere ordinary clay. 

True, the kingdom over which his father at 
present reigns, and to the throne of which he 
is the heir presumptive, is a mere few miles of 
territory, a mere speck of country bordering 
upon two great empires, either one of which 
would have gobbled it up and annexed it long 
ago had it not been for the jealous rivalry of the 
other. Half-a-dozen times during the past half 
century the powerful neighbors had been on the 
point of arriving at an amicable understanding 
which would in the end indubitably have meant 
a partition of the prospective kingdom of Raoul 
Alexander between them. Disputes had, how- 
ever, invariably arisen between the aforesaid 
powerful neighbors, each one in a frenzy of jeal- 
ous dread lest one should get more out of the 
bargain than the other, and at the last moment 
negotiations had fallen through and the little 
kingdom has continued to maintain this coveted 
independence, forever trembling in the balance. 


AN OLD WORLD HIGHNESS. 


25 


Personally, Raoul Alexander, to tell the truth,' 
is supremely indifferent to this kingdom and the 
subjects over whom he will some day be called 
upon to rule, although at the same time he 
keenly appreciates the benefits accruing from the 
princely quality as also the income which this 
status assures to him. As far as his personal 
tastes are concerned, he infinitely prefers life in 
Paris, with its gaieties, its frivolities and its 
merry, if meretricious glitter to the stiff ceremo- 
niousness and dull routine of court and official 
life at home. Such being the case — and being a 
man accustomed to largely consult his personal 
inclinations in preference to any other considera- 
tions on earth — he contrives to pass a goodly 
share of his time in Paris, where with a few 
choice spirits such as his friend Baron Barr he 
manages to lead a highly contented and by 
no means “ slow ” form of existence. 

Hector de Barr, His Highness’ favorite intimate, 
presents an appearance sharply in contrast with 
that of the Prince. Short of stature, olive 
skinned, and dark as His Highness is fair, with 
large and very expressive dark eyes, a polished 
ease of manner and a self-possession which noth- 
ing has ever been able to disturb, the Baron is a 


26 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


man by no means without a certain attraction. 
His chief charm, however, lies in the sharpness of 
his intellect and the cleverness of his tongue — 
his ever ready wit, his wonderful gift of re- 
partee, and his polished impudence furnishing 
fruitful themes of gossip at the various clubs he 
frequents. Quite a Don Juan , too, is Baron Barr ; 
an excellent “ whip,” and a swordsman who has 
displayed much prowess in some half-dozen 
“ affairs of honor,” in which he has been engaged 
— in a word, just the man suited to be the 
favorite confidant of a Highness of lively tem- 
perament and decided sportive proclivities. 

At last His Highness, having finished his 
grapes, proceeds to light a short and very fat 
Turkish cigarette. 

“ Well, mon ami," he exclaims, glancing across 
the table at the Baron, “ what are your plans for 
this afternoon ? ” 

“ None in particular,” answered Baron Barr, 
lightly. “ Suppose we drive ; it is a beautiful 
day!. How will that suit your Highness’ pleas- 
ure?” 

“ Impossible. I have an engagement.” 

“ Ah,” exclaims the Baron, with a laugh ; “ a 
petticoat ? ” 


AN OLD WORLD HIGHNESS. 27 

His Highness looks up and does precisely what 
a shop-boy might do under similar conditions. 
He winks. 

“ Just so," he answers. 

“ Something new?" 

“ No ; not exactly." 

“ I wish you joy." 

Thanks. As the rendezvous is at some little 
distance, I must begin to get ready." 

“ When will your Highness be visible again ?" 

“ Meet me to-night at seven, at the club." 

“ Agreed." 

“ Two hours later, a tall, well-dressed man, his 
carriage marked by a certain military stiffness, 
saunters slowly along a quiet side street. He is 
evidently in no hurry, for he stops to look into 
every other shop window and when he reaches 
the corner he turns and goes over the ground 
again. This performance he repeats a couple of 
times ; then glances sharply at his watch ; looks 
inquiringly up and down the street, and next 
proceeds to flip viciously with his cane at the 
point of his highly polished boot. 

Apparently the tall, well-dressed gentleman is 
becoming slightly impatient. 

Just at this juncture, however, a hired coup£, 


28 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


the blinds drawn down, turns the corner. It 
comes rather slowly along the street until at last, 
evidently in response to a jerk at the driver’s cord 
from the person inside, it comes to a stop near the 
centre of the block. Instantly the tall, well- 
dressed gentleman is all animation. Quickly, 
but without ostentatious haste, he walks up to the 
coupe, mutters a brief word of direction to the 
driver, and then discreetly opening the door 
pops quickly inside — not so quickly, however, 
but a sharp-eyed passer-by at that moment 
catches a glimpse of a white skirt and a female 
figure in the further corner. 

The door having been sharply banged to, the 
driver proceeds at a quick trot to a certain estab- 
lishment — half restaurant, half hotel — somewhat 
remote from the livelier section of the city. 
Here the first occupant of the carriage, who is 
closely veiled, is assisted by her escort to alight. 
They have evidently been expected, for they are 
immediately shown to parlor 92 — one flight, 
front. 

There, alone with her escort and the waiter, 
who is busying himself about the room, the lady 
puts aside her veil and reveals a pretty face, 
vivacious and at the same time distinctively aris- 


AN OLD WORLD HIGHNESS. 29 

tocratic in its expression, and a pair of brown 
eyes which match well with the pure whiteness 
of her skin and which are flashing with added 
brightness at the moment, evidently as the result 
of the excitement incidental to the adventure. 
A sweet matron of some five and twenty sum- 
mers is she, plump of figure and proud of bear- 
ing, dressed in the height of French fashion and 
Parisian taste ; a woman of rank too, doubtless, 
judging from the countess’ coronet embroidered in 
the corner of the dainty cobweb of a lace hand- 
kerchief which is clutched nervously in her white 
hand. 

Like the apartment, the luncheon seems also 
to have been ordered in advance, for it is served 
without delay ; and the lady’s escort discourses 
the repast after the manner of a man blessed 
with excellent digestive powers and an enviable 
appetite. No sooner has the fruit been served, 
however, than the waiter is unceremoniously 
dismissed, and, to guard probably against any 
undesirable intrusion, the gentleman quietly 
pushes the bolt of the door. 

“At last!” he exclaims, walking back to the 
table and drawing his chair nearer to his com- 
panion ; “ at last we can chat at our ease. They 


30 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


cook well here, but the service is abominably 
slow. It seemed to me they would never get 
through." 

“ Oh," declares the lady, with a coquettish 
pout ; “ I’m sure you have no right to complain. 
It seemed to me that you appreciated the lunch 
so well — especially that last entree — that you had 
no eyes for me." 

“What a sacrilege!" he cries, laughing, “to 
speak of yourself and the entries in the same 
breath. That entremet, though, I must admit, 
was almost perfection.” 

“ Come and dine with me some night this 
week " she pleads, “ and I promise to introduce 
some new dishes that can hardly fail to win your 
Highness’ serene approval. We have at the mo- 
ment positively the best chef in Paris. Promise 
me to come.” 

“ This week? ” 

“ Yes ; do not tell me now that you are 
engaged. You owe me a visit de convenance , you 
know.” 

“ Oh, if you put it that way, my dear Countess," 
is the answer, given with mock ceremoniousness, 
“ of course I feel bound to accept. What 
night?" 


AN OLD WORLD HIGHNESS. 3 1 

“ Will Thursday night meet your Highness’ _ 
pleasure ? ” 

“ Perfectly. But, by the way, Vera, speaking 
of that, do you know I have fancied I noticed a 
certain, what shall I say — suspiciousness — in your 
husband’s manner of late. Do you think — ” 

The lady interrupts him with a gay little 
laugh. * 

“ He suspicious,” she exclaims, “really you 
credit him with too much discernment.” 

And again she laughs merrily — a laugh so con- 
tagious that involuntarily he joins her in it. 

“ It is agreed, then — Thursday,” she says, 
presently. 

“Yes,” he replies, “and I herewith affix my seal 
to the agreement.” 

“ The Royal seal ? ” 

“Yes; if you will so have it,” he laughs. 

Drawing his chair still closer to her, he passes 
his arm about her neck and imprints a long kiss 
upon her upturned lips. 

“ Is there only one seal to the royal agreement ?” 
she exclaims, looking up at him coquettishly as 
he raises his head. 

“No, several,” he cries, again bending. 

His lips have just met hers in this second em- 


32 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


brace, when there is a sudden noise of feet out- 
side, and then the handle of the door is sharply 
turned and rattled. 

Both the occupants of the room start and 
glance with looks of surprise and alarm toward 
the door. 

An instant later, there is a loud, impatient 
knock : 

“ Open ! ” comes the imperious command. 


CHAPTER III. 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW ! 

“ Whatever can it be !” whispers the lady, 
clinging to her escort’s arm and looking up 
apprehensively into his face. 

“ Wait ; let us keep quiet for a moment and 
see,” he whispers back. 

“ Open the door,” again comes the command. 

Silence from within. 

“We have been followed; I am lost! ” ex- 
claims the lady, now very pale in her excite- 
ment. 

Her escort glances hastily about him, a rather 
savage expression on his face, in search of 
some way of evasion for her. None seems to 
present itself, however. Just behind a sofa 
ranged along the wall is a door. He goes over to 
this door on tiptoe, carefully avoiding making 
any noise, and tries it. Useless attempt ; it is 
locked. 

Just as he is turning away, however, there is a 
light grating sound, as of a key cautiously ap- 


34 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


plied, and an instant later the door swings open 
and the landlord of the hotel, pale and trem- 
bling visibly, appears on the threshold. Putting 
his finger to his lips to caution silence, he beck- 
ons to the lady. No second suggestion is needed. 
In a twinkling she has stepped upon the sofa and 
has been assisted by the landlord into the adjoin- 
ing room. 

“ And you ? ” she whispers to her companion. 

“ I ? oh, I must stay and face the music ! It is 
enough for me if you escape.” 

“ I will attend to that,” hurriedly whispers the 
landlord. “ This room opens on a side corridor. 
Let us make haste ! ” 

Without another word, he quickly shuts the 
door and locks it. 

Again a knock, this time more imperative than 
ever : 

“ Open, I say ! ” 

“Who is there?” demands the now solitary 
occupant of the apartment. 

“ Open, in the name of the law! ” 

Certain ominous sounds make themselves 
heard, indicating that preparations are being 
made to instantly force an entrance. 

Without waiting further, the occupant of the 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW ! 35 

room goes to the door and slowly draws back the* 
bolt. 

“ Did you knock ? ” he asks, with imperturba- 
ble effrontery. 

Throwing wide open the door, he finds him- 
self confronted by a Commissaire of Police, ac- 
companied by his clerk and two policemen in 
plain clothes. Some little distance along the 
corridor, faintly outlined in the shadow, is the 
figure of a man — the husband, doubtless, awaiting 
developments. 

Instantly the Commissaire strides into the 
apartment, while his men remain on watch just 
beyond the threshold. Glancing quickly about 
him, his eye detects the door in the wall and he 
at once walks over to it and tries it. It is locked. 

“ Where is the person who was here with you ?” 
demands the Commissaire. 

“ What person ? ” 

“ The woman.” 

The occupant of the room laughs sarcastically : 

“Woman! I don’t see any woman; do you ? ” 
he answers. 

At the same time he scans the Commissaire 
anxiously. A gruff devil, evidently ! he thinks to 
himself. One of those fellows hard to manage. 


36 


HIS ROVAL HIGHNESS. 


“No, I don’t see her,” answers the police of- 
ficer, still glancing about him, “ but I’ll guarantee 
my men will find her in very short order.” 

He walks to the door and gives an order to his 
men ; then turns back into the apartment. 

“ How did this come here? ” he asks, pointing 
to the imprint of a feminine boot-heel in the 
cushions of the sofa. 

“ What?” 

“ This boot-heel.” 

“ Does that look to you like a boot-heel ? ” 

The Commissaire makes no reply to this tantal- 
izing inquiry, but beckons to his clerk. 

“Your name, age, residence and occupation ? ” 
he demands. 

“Victor Durand, gentleman, residing with 
Baron Barr at his apartments in the Avenue 
Kleber.” 

“ Don’t write that down,” the Commissaire or- 
ders his clerk. “ It is useless,” he continues, turn- 
ing to the person he is questioning, “ to furnish 
any incorrect answers. The duty I have to per- 
form may be disagreeable to you, but I shall nev- 
ertheless endeavor to execute it to the full. Since 
you decline to accurately identify yourself, I will 
do it for you. You are Prince Raoul Alexander, 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW ! 37 

of H ; thirty-five years of age, residing at 

your mansion in the rue Monceau. This after- 
noon you left home at eighteen minutes past two 
and went on foot to the rue Thabor, up and 
down which you strolled for some time in front 
of the houses numbered from ten to forty-six. 
You looked into several of the shop windows and 
twice consulted your watch. A few minutes before 
three o’clock a coach bearing the number 1042, 
and which is waiting below at this moment, drove 
up and stopped within a few feet of you. You 
at once stepped into this coach, seated in which 
was a lady closely veiled, and drove straight to 
this restaurant, where you were shown to this 
room. As for the lady — ” 

“If you know her, or think you do,” quickly 
interrupts Raoul Alexander, “ there is no neces- 
sity to speak her name.” 

“ I merely wish to convince you,” answers the 
Commissaire, “ that we are fully acquainted with 
your movements as also with hers, and that you 
are simply wasting time in seeking to mislead us. 
I have been called upon to act by the husband in 
the case, and I mean to carry out the instructions 
as laid down by the law in such matters.” 

Raoul Alexander shrugs his shoulders. This 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


38 

police officer is obviously one of those fiercely 
democratic fellows one runs across sometimes ; 
there is nothing to be done with such a man ! 

“ She went out by that door ; there was no 
other way,” mutters the Commissaire , following 
out the trend of his own thoughts. “ She can’t 
be far, though ; we shall find her, I think ! ” 

Raoul Alexander flushes angrily, but makes no 
comment, and at that instant one of the Com- 
missaire s men appears at the door, his attitude 
indicating that he has some report to make. The 
Commissaire steps out of the room to hear it. A 
moment later he returns looking flushed and 
annoyed. Evidently the mission of his men has 
not been successful ; the landlord has succeeded 
in making good the escape. 

“You will please sign these papers,” says the 
Commissaire, curtly, holding out a statement of 
the proceedings drawn up by his clerk. 

“ No, sir,” answers Raoul Alexander, haughtily. 
“You are at liberty to mistake me for whom you 
will ; you may indulge in whatever imaginings 
may please your fancy regarding my identity, 
my movements and my presence here ; but I, on 
my side, call upon you to record in your official 
notes that I declare myself to be Victor Durand, 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW ! 39 

gentleman, residing with my friend, Baron Barr, 
at his apartments in the Avenue Kleber. I am 
quite ready to go with you to the office of the Pre- 
fect of Police, if you so wish, but I distinctly re- 
fuse to sign your papers, or to answer any further 
questions. Now, sir, make up your mind quickly 
as to what you wish to do, for I am pressed for 
time.” 

The Commissaire hesitates, evidently deliberat- 
ing as to what next to do. 

“You refuse to sign these papers?” he asks, 
finally. 

“ Most positively.” 

“ Very well, then ; your formal refusal will be 
noted. Nothing more is required for the pres- 
ent.” 

Raoul Alexander strides to the door, and upon 
a sign from the Commissaire to his men is allowed 
to pass out. 

“ A nice mess ! What a beastly scandal this is 
going to make if it leaks out ! ” he mutters, as he 
reaches the street. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THAT GUILTY HEEL. 

Shortly after six o’clock that evening, just as 
the Commissaire is in the middle of a very com- 
fortable little dinner at home, a message is 
brought to him direct from the Prefect of Police. 
It is extremely brief and extremely to the point : 

“ Report here at once ! ” 

Quickly bringing his dinner to an end, the 
Commissaire sets out. Fifteen minutes later he 
presents himself at official headquarters, and is at 
once admitted to the presence of the Chief. The 
latter is striding impatiently up and down his 
office. It is obvious to the Commissaire at a 
glance that he has been expected ; it is equally 
obvious to him at a glance that the Chief is un- 
wontedly excited. 

“ Ah,” he exclaims, abruptly, as the Com- 
missaire enters and salutes, “ so here you are ! 
A pretty snarl you have managed to get this de- 
partment into. Why, it seems to me you must 
have taken leave of your senses.” 


THAT GUILTY HEEL. 


41 


“ In what connection, sir ? ” stammers the' 
Commissaire , overwhelmed by the anger of his 
superior. 

By way of answer, the Prefect angrily throws 
down on the table before the Commissaire the 
report drawn up by that official at the hotel that 
afternoon^ 

“ What in the world can you have been think- 
ing of ! ” cries the Prefect, angrily. “ According 
to your own report, you knew that you were 
dealing with a Highness, a prince of the blood 
royal, the son of a reigning monarch, and yet 
you took it upon yourself to act without consult- 
ing your superiors ! What can you have been 
thinking of, sir ; what can you have been thinking 
of, I ask ! ” 

“ But, Monsieur le Prtfet , I was legally called 
upon to act." 

“ By whom ? ” 

“ By the Comte de Vigny, the husband." 

“ The husband ! all the more reason why you 
should have foreseen trouble ahead and have 
avoided the responsibility." 

“ But the husband stood upon his legal rights 
and demanded — " 

“ To the mischief with the husband ! " 


42 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“ My duty — ” 

“ Duty be hanged ! ” 

“ But the law — ” 

“ Confound the law ! What has all this to do 
with the matter when one is dealing with a 
prince of the blood ! ” 

The unfortunate Commissaire is so taken aback 
by the ire of his chief that for the moment he is 
unable to find an answer. 

“Then, again,” continues the Prefect, flushing 
anew with indignation, “ I find that your manner 
toward this exalted personage was simply, to say 
the least, disrespectful in the extreme. You 
seem to have plied His Highness with questions 
as if he were a common pickpocket caught in the 
act of stealing a purse, and when he graciously 
deigned to open up for you a loophole of escape 
by furnishing you with a fictitious name — what 
do you do ! Why, you insult him by parading 
your confounded items — your particulars — your 
— oh ! Pm ashamed that one of my men should 
have blundered so stupidly ! 

“A nice mess you have drawn us into,” 
resumes the Prefect. “ His Excellency, the Am- 
bassador Extraordinary and Minister Plenipo- 
tentiary of H , has been here and has made 


THAT GUILTY HEEL. 


43 


representations on the subject. I confess I was 
ashamed, and hardly knew what to say to him. 
As it is, I have promised to see him again to-night 
and report to him what steps have been taken to 
hush up this regrettable incident. A pretty mess 
if this affair should leak out in one of the news- 
papers. A pretty mess, sir, and all through 
you ! ” 

“ I only thought to do my duty, Monsieur le 
Prtfet," answers the Commissaire , humbly. 

“Your duty!” thunders the Prefect, smiting 
the table with his fist. “ Great heavens, man ! 
can’t you understand that when you are dealing 
with persons of that rank your business is to 
take orders, not to give them ? This, it seems 
to me, ought to be perfectly clear to anyone 
except a born idiot.” 

Humble as is the Commissaire' s rank in the 
administrative hierarchy, he cannot find it in him 
to tamely accept this rebuke. 

“ Monsieur le PrtfetC he answers, sturdily, 
“ legally cited, in the name of the Law, to execute 
my duty, I saw only the Law, and I carried out 
its mandates, without respect for persons and 
regardless of distinctions not recognized by the 
Republican form of government and glorious 


44 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

democratic constitution under which we in 
France to-day live.” 

The Prefect — whose office entitles him to call 
himself “ Honorable ” — bursts into a laugh. 

“The glorious democratic constitution!” he 
cries. “That sounds well, doesn’t it? especially 
in an election speech. Worth three rounds of 
applause at the Porte St. Martin Theatre ! But, 
my patriotic friend, the question now is not 
our ‘ glorious democratic constitution,’ but your 
extremely stupid blunder. Luckily for you, 
wiser heads are at hand to repair that blunder. 
Sit down and write me another report of this 
affair.” 

“ I really cannot, Monsieur le Prtfet ; I prefer 
to tender my resignation.” 

The Prefect bites his lips. If the story of this 
resignation is gotten hold of by the opposition 
newspapers, he foresees the possibility of a scandal 
worse than the first looming up on the horizon. 

“ I cannot accept your resignation,” he says at 
last, in a more conciliatory tone. “ A soldier who 
deserts in the face of the enemy is a coward. 
Since you are such a slave to duty, I call on you 
to stand by your colors. Sit down and write at 
my dictation.” 


THAT GUILTY HEEL. 


45 


“No use, Monsieur le Prtfet; no use at all. 
The husband has a copy of the document you 
would set aside.” 

The Prefect drops into a chair, overwhelmed. 

“You don’t say so!” he gasps. “It is even 
worse, then, than I thought.” 

The Com m issa ire shifts his feet awkwardly. He 
is filled with a vague wish that the floor might 
open and let him through. 

“ Did you make any mention of His Highness’s 
name in this report you gave to the husband?” 
inquires the Prefect at last, partially recovering 
himself. 

“ No," answers the Commissaire, “ I did not do 
so, no formal evidence as to his identity having 
been as yet adduced* I simply set forth the 
facts and stated that the occupant of the apart- 
ment had described himself as one Victor Du- 
rand, a name believed to be fictitious.” 

“ Well,” declares the Prefect, with a sigh of 
relief, “ that is better. I think we may find our 
way out of this matter yet. Prepare me another 
report, much briefer than this one, simply stating 
that you found the apartment occupied by one Vic- 
tor Durand, omitting any reference to your erro- 
neous belief that this name was a fictitious one.” 


46 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, 


“ But the law ! ” 

The Prefect glares at his subordinate through 
his spectacles. 

“ I think I’ve remarked before: Confound the 
Law ! ” he exclaims, “ when a public scandal 
involving personages of this importance is in 
question. I tell you, you have been following a 
false scent.” 

“ A false scent ! ” 

“Yes. I have here an official declaration that 
His Royal Highness, Prince Raoul Alexander, 
breakfasted this morning at the house of the 
Ambassador of his august father, His Majesty, 
the King of H , where he was busily en- 

gaged, from ten in the morning until five in the 
afternoon, over weighty diplomatic affairs affect- 
ing the interests of his future subjects, whose 
well being is ever his closest care.” 

“ Then, I am to understand that it was really 
Victor Durand, gentleman, with whom the 
Baroness de Vigny lunched ? ” 

“The Baroness de Vigny did not lunch with 
anybody,” answers the Prefect, with dignity. “ The 
Baroness, in fact, did not lunch at all ! She was 
at home superintending her household till mid- 
day, and then only left the domestic hearth to 


THAT GUILTY HEEL. 


47 


make some necessary purchases to embellish that” 
hearth, and to pay such social visits as her 
position in the world of fashion imposes on her. 
You thus perceive that you have been entirely 
on a false scent, as I said before. Sit down and 
write me a new report, omitting all names, and 
simply stating that being called upon to enter a 
certain apartment, you did so and found there 
one Victor Durand, gentleman, alone.” 

“But How About That Heel?” 

“What heel?” 

“ That boot-heel, the imprint of which was 
found upon the covering of the sofa?” 

“A guilty boot-heel, evidently ! ” answers the 
Prefect, solemnly, “since the owner was in such 
haste to decamp ; but a heel against which no 
complaint can well be lodged as there is no evi- 
dence as to its owner.” 

“ And the report already given to the husband ? ” 

“ A hasty report, drawn from you in a moment 
of inadvertence and not fully susbtantiated by 
your later official report! We shall manage to 
find some flaw in it. There, there ; sit down and 
prepare these papers as I have directed you and 
I will attend to the rest. I think we shall extri- 
cate ourselves from this muddle yet ! ” 


48 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


Sorely tried in spirit, the Commissaire seats 
himself at the desk indicated by the Prefect and 
gives his attention to the preparation of his new 
report. 

The Prefect comes over to his side. 

“ Make it very short; be careful not to say too 
much ! ” he orders. “ And, by the way, let me 
give you a piece of advice. If ever again you 
run up against a Highness, let him,” with an 
expressive motion of the hand, “slip through 
your fingers — let — him — quietly — slip — through 
your — fingers. They are not safe to handle, 
these Highnesses. They burn ! ” 


CHAPTER V. 


WHERE THE DEUCE IS CHICAGO? 

While the Commissaire is undergoing such 
an unpleasant interview in the office of his 
chief, Raoul Alexander is experiencing an 
almost equally unpleasant half-hour with his 
thoughts at home. He is stretched upon a 
low divan, smoking a cigar, and turning over in 
his mind all the possibilities of the scandal which 
seems likely to evolve from this unfortunate 
affair. Instead of meeting his friend Baron Barr 
at the club as arranged, he has sent a message 
requesting the Baron to come to him at once, and 
the latter, in obedience to this summons, soon 
arrives. 

After hearing from the Prince the account 
of his adventure, the Baron is at first disposed to 
make light of it. 

“I am surprised at the impudence of that 
police fellow ! ” he exclaims. 

“I didn’t care so much about that,” declares 
the Prince; “I was mostly worried, first about 


50 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


her , and next about the scandal the thing is 
likely to kick up. I am afraid there is going to 
be a good deal of a row about it.” 

“ Suppose there is, ” rejoins the Baron. “ At 
the worst, it can’t do you any very great harm.” 

“ Here, no,” answers Raoul Alexander, “ but 
out there ! ” and he waves his hand in a certain 
direction. 

“ Oh, yes, I see,” exclaims the Baron, speaking 
with that bold familiarity peculiar to him and 
which, in the closeness of their intimacy, he 
adopts even with His Highness, “ in your future 
kingdom, eh ? Pshaw ! why should you bother 
yourself about that ? Look around you on every 
side at your brother kings and princes. Is their 
conduct so nice that they might serve as models 
of the virtues for their subjects ! Why, if I may 
be permitted the question,” and the Baron laughs 
lightly, “should your Highness be expected to 
be any better behaved than others of his class ? ” 

Raoul Alexander joins in the laugh. 

“ No,” he says meditatively, “ it is not exactly 
my people who are worrying me.” 

“ Who then ? Are you afraid that the parlia- 
ment will cut down your allowance? ” 

“Can’t you be serious for a moment ?” exclaims 


WHERE THE DEUCE IS CHICAGO? 5 I 

Raoul Alexander. “You forget that besides 
the people and the parliament and all the rest 
of it, about which I don’t care a straw, there 
is my father, who overwhelms me with remon- 
strances — ” 

“ That’s a way all fathers have. They forget 
what they themselves did when they were young. 
Shouldn’t take that kind of thing too much to 
heart ! ” 

“ My mother, too, who writes me sermons — ” 

“ Don’t read them. Surely, that’s easy 
enough ! ” 

“ Easy enough to say,. yes ! ” 

“ And to do, or rather not to do, for that mat- 
ter.” 

“ It seems to me,” declares Raoul Alexander, 
“ that you hardly look at this matter with 
enough seriousness.” 

“ And it seems to me,” retorts the Baron, “ that 
your Highness does not fully appreciate his posi- 
tion and privileges. Here are you, a prince of 
the blood, and you allow yourself to be 
browbeaten by a miserable little police func- 
tionary, under the ridiculous pretext that he 
represents the law. The law, eh ! Why, are not 
you yourself a maker of laws? Your Highness 


52 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


forgets what is due to himself and his Order! And 
then, not content with having submitted to all 
this, here you are worrying yourself into a fever 
over this scandal that may possibly ensue. All 
this is really absurd. The way out of it is easy 
enough ; simply don’t trouble your head about it, 
that’s all ! Quietly burn up the paternal remon- 
strances, without reading them, and take good 
care not to open any of the other letters from 
home just for the present. And now, to drive 
away more foolishness on this subject, suppose 
we go to the club.” 

“ No ; we are going to the opera to-night,” 
answers the Prince. 

“ To the opera ! ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What, again ? ” 

“ Yes; I am going again to-night.” 

“ Oh, oh ! there’s something behind that — 
again a petticoat, I’ll wager.” 

Raoul Alexander smiles slyly, but makes no 
answer. 

“ Come,” cries the Baron, “ I think I’m en- 
titled to an admission if I’ve guessed correctly.” 

Raoul Alexander draws nearer to his friend. 

“Listen,” he says, confidentially, “it’s the 


WHERE THE DEUCE IS CHICAGO? 53 

most interesting, the most romantic affair, you 
could imagine. The other night I dropped in 
during the last act at the Theatre Frangais , and 
while looking over the house I saw in one of the 
boxes just the most delightfully charming little 
face and figure IVe come across in many a day/’ 

Raoul Alexander pauses impressively and looks 
at his friend as much as to ask, “ What do you 
think of that ? ” 

“Well? ” says the Baron, expectantly. 

“ There was about her,” continues Raoul Alex- 
ander, with enthusiasm, “ a certain charm, a cer- 
tain freshness that impressed me at the first 
glance. The more I looked at her the more I 
was attracted, and you know I’m not very im- 
pressionable.” 

“ Hem ! ” coughs the Baron. 

“ She is certainly not a Parisienne ,” resumes 
Raoul Alexander; “of that I am confident. As 
far as I could judge, she is either English, or per- 
haps Russian. Well ; I waited until the fall of 
the curtain and then managed so as to get close 
to her in one of the exits. A nearer view of this 
charmer did not — as is lamentably so often the case 
— destroy the attraction. Close to her, I found 
her even more bewitching than ever.” 


54 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“ Not a case, then, of distance lending enchant- 
ment ? ” 

“ No. I was very close to her — so close that I 
could hear what she said, and then the idea I had 
already formed that she was not a Parisienne was 
confirmed. She talks French with an accent that is 
simply — simply — ravishing," declares Raoul Alex- 
ander, at a loss for a word to sufficiently forcibly 
express his meaning. 

“Well? "again exclaims the Baron, evidently 
impatient to learn the outcome of this “ roman- 
tic " episode. 

“ Well," echoes Raoul Alexander, “ as I was 
saying, I was so near her and those accompany- 
ing her that I could hear what they said. In the 
lobby they ran against some acquaintances, and 
from an invitation which was then extended I 
most fortunately managed to gather that they 
had made arrangements to attend a certain repre- 
sentation to-night." 

“Which means the opera?" exclaims the 
Baron. 

“ Precisely." 

“ And that is why we are going to the opera 
to-night ? " 

“ Mon cher, you are a wonderful guesser! ” 


WHERE THE DEUCE IS CHICAGO? 55 

“ Very well,’’ cries the Baron, gayly, “ to the 
opera let us go, and view this fair charmer your 
Highness vaunts so greatly.” 

Half an hour later Raoul Alexander and his 
companion arrive at the opera, just as the cur- 
tain is going down on one of the acts. Hardly 
are they fairly settled in their seats when His 
Highness adjusts his opera glass and begins mak- 
ing a careful survey of the house. His glass has 
not travelled far when it suddenly comes to a 
stop, centred on one of the boxes. 

“ There, there she is,” comes in a low whisper 
from his parted lips. 

The Baron follows the direction indicated by 
the glass and has no difficulty in locating the box. 
In it are seated three persons — an elderly lady 
of rather commanding figure, whose white hair 
against a youthful looking skin becomes her well ; 
a young lady, and a man of some thirty-five years. 
To the younger of these two ladies the Baron 
confines his attention for some moments. 

“ Not at all bad ! ” he murmurs presently. 

“ I should say not,” retorts Raoul Alexander, 
with vigor. 

“ I wonder who she is,” he continues, after a 
pause, his glass still bracketed on the box. 


56 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“ I know the man,” answers the Baron. 

“ Who is he ? ” 

“ Mr. George Gorman Halstead, one of the 
Secretaries of the American Legation here.” 

“ Ah ! ” 

“Which leads to the inference that she is 
neither English nor Russian, as your Highness 

was pleased to surmise, but probably an Ameri- 
»» 

can. 

“Mon cher>" says Raoul Alexander, impres- 
sively, “ I want you to find out all about her.” 
Baron Barr glances slowly over the house. 

“ I think I can do that without difficulty,” he 
replies. “ I see in a box over there, Mr. William 
Hanley Gardiner, the proprietor of The New 
York Trumpeter . If she be really an American, 
he can probably tell us all about her.” 

“ You think so? ” 

“ Well, a man who has two papers in New 
York, two in Paris, another in London and a 
cable under the ocean ought certainly to be a 
mine of information.” 

“So he ought to be,” laughs Raoul Alexander. 
“ Will you go and see him ? ” 

“Not now. See, the curtain is just going up.” 
During the final act, Raoul Alexander’s glass is 


WHERE THE DEUCE IS CHICAGO? 

directed a great deal more toward a certain box 
than upon the stage. As the act is drawing* 
toward its close, the Baron, in obedience to the 
princely behest, rises and makes his way to the 
box of Mr. William Hanley Gardiner. Ten min- 
utes after the close of the performance he joins 
Raoul Alexander, as has been arranged between 
them, in the lobby. 

“ Have you found out anything?” eagerly in- 
quires His Highness. 

“ Everything.” 

“Well?” 

“ The gentleman is — ” 

“Yes, yes — Secretary of the American Lega- 
tion. You’ve told me all about him," 

“ The elderly lady,” continues the Baron, with 
malicious slowness, “ is a Mrs. Patterson, a 
widow, the aunt of the charmer.” 

“ And she — she ? ” 

“ Is Miss Edith Zelma Hepworth, of Chicago.” 

“ Where the deuce is Chicago ? ” 

The Baron smiles. He is well used to these lit- 
tle educational lapses on the part of His High- 
ness. 

“ In the United States of America, if it 
please your Highness. She is, it appears, the 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


58 

daughter of some fellow out there who sells 
pork.” 

“ Pork ! ” cries His Highness, aghast. 

“Yes; salt pork, or potted pork, or something 
of the kind. Anyway, it’s pork.” 

“I don’t care,” cries Raoul Alexander, obsti- 
nately, “ if her father sells potted devils ! She is 
the most bewitching creature I’ve seen in many a 
day. You didn’t forget, mon cher , to find out 
how I might manage to meet her? ” 

“Am I in the habit of forgetting such de- 
tails?” asks the Baron, reproachfully. “No ; I 
attended to that. Next Thursday there is to be 
a ball — quite a notable affair — at the American 
Minister’s in London. She will be present, I 
have learned.” 

“You must get us invitations.” 

“That can readily be managed through our 
friend Mr. William Hanley Gardiner.” 

“Yes, yes; I forgot. What a delicious com- 
plexion she has ; did you notice?” 

“ They say,” answers the Baron, with sly 
malice, “ that pork, externally applied, is a fine 
thing for the complexion.” 

“ Good-night,” exclaims Raoul Alexander, 
abruptly. 


WHERE THE DEUCE IS CHICAGO ? 59 

“ You are not going to the club ? ” 

“ No," savagely, “ good-night I ” and in ah 
instant His Highness is striding down the boule- 
vard alone. 

“ Edith Zelma Hepworth,” he murmurs to 
himself ; “ what a pretty name ! Of Chicago. 
Chicago, eh? Somewhere in the neighborhood 
of New York, I suppose ! ” 

And this ignorance is not affected ; he has in 
reality not the slightest idea as to Chicago’s pre- 
cise location in the Union. He can ride well, 
drive well, fence well, dress well, and above all, 
knows how to pose well, but beyond this, as a 
matter of fact, his education is sadly deficient. 
From an educational standpoint, his ignorance is 
in some respects so dense as to be a source of 
shame to the veriest dunce in a village school. 
Yet, here is a man who, his father having 
passed away, might to-morrow be called upon to 
govern a nation ; who would have the power, 
should it seem to him meet and good, to 
plunge his country into war and lead to battle 
every able-bodied male among his subjects ; who 
would direct great diplomatic negotiations and 
be a controlling factor in questions of legislation, 
finance, commerce — and all this without his ever 


6o 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


having been at the pains of learning anything 
about the science of war or of diplomacy, about 
law, commerce or finance. 

But, how absurd to cavil at this ! Is he not of 
royal blood, and is it not one of the radical tenets 
of the monarchical idea that “ the king can do 
no wrong; ” that to men of his illustrious order, 
born to the purple and marked on the brow with 
the Divine right to rule, everything comes as a 
matter of course, without their having ever been 
to the trouble of learning anything! 

Raoul Alexander, his mind much taken up with 
this American “ charmer,” strolls slowly home 
and goes to bed, his last lazily drifting thought 
as he drops asleep being a vague wonder whether 
Chicago is on the outskirts of New York, or 
simply a sort of suburb of Boston. 


f 


CHAPTER VI. 

A ROYAL REBEL. 

JUST as Raoul Alexander is sitting down to 
breakfast next morning, a note is brought 
to him from the Ambassador represent- 
ing his fathers court at the French capital. 
It contains unpleasant news. It informs His 
Highness that the adventure of the previous day 
threatens to be followed by most undesirable 
consequences. All efforts to hush up the scan- 
dal have proved unavailing, the Comte de Vigny 
having separated from his wife and having taken 
measures to bring an action for divorce. Power- 
ful influence has been brought to bear to hush 
up the matter, the Ambassador declares, but has 
so far proved utterly ineffective. 

And His Excellency, the Ambassador, tells the 
literal truth in declaring that extraordinary 
efforts have been exerted. As a matter of fact, 
message after message has been sent on the sub- 
ject from the French Department of Foreign 
Affairs to the Department of the Interior, which 


62 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


department has in turn communicated at length 
with the Prefect of Police. Then, too, dispatches 
in cipher have been exchanged by the dozen 
between the Embassy in Paris and the Minister 

of Foreign Affairs in H . In both countries 

any number of Under Secretaries, to say nothing 
of a small army of minor officials, are kept rush- 
ing about, inditing dispatches, and fixing up 
cipher telegrams. It is as if the peace of Europe 
were at stake ! All this official perturbation and 
activity, however, seem destined to run to waste, 
for the aggrieved husband keeps on in his prepara- 
tions looking to legal redress, unshaken by all offi- 
cial efforts to induce him to believe he is in the 
wrong. Decidedly an obstinate man, the Comte ! 

This state of affairs is kept up for forty-eight 
hours. On the afternoon of the third day, as Raoul 
Alexander returns from a drive in the Bois, he is 
met with the announcement that Baron von Bieler 
is awaiting him. This announcement seems to 
somewhat disturb His Highness. 

“ Who is this Baron von Bieler?” inquires 
Baron Barr. 

“ My father’s private secretary and confiden- 
tial adviser — a sort of privileged character at the 
court. He was also my tutor in the old days.” 


A ROYAL REBEL. 


63 


“ What do you think he is here for ? ” 

“ Something unpleasant you may be sure — 
something concerning that deuced row of the 
other day. We must be careful to treat the old 
gentleman well, though. He is not a bad old 
fellow, and besides he is a sort of ‘ power behind 
the throne.’ ” 

Without further delay Raoul Alexander repairs 
to the room where Baron von Bieler is awaiting 
him. Upon his entrance, the Baron, an old gen- 
tleman of courtly manners, but of somewhat 
austere mien, rises to greet him. 

Raoul Alexander receives him with words of 
formal welcome, and on his side Baron von Bieler 
is as suave of manner as if he were not in the 
least conscious of the uneasiness to which his 
sudden appearance has undoubtedly given rise. 
Beneath a certain air of official ceremoniousness 
and cold austerity, he at heart really loves this 
heir apparent to the throne, in whom he always 
more than half sees the wild, impetuous, mis- 
chievous boy — his old-time pupil of twenty odd 
years ago. 

“ Do not fear that I bring you ill tidings from 
home,” he says, reassuringly. “ On the contrary, 
I left all the members of the Royal family in the 


64 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


best of health. They bade me convey to you 
their affectionate greetings.” 

“Thanks,” drawls Raoul Alexander. “But,” 
with a suspicious smile, “ I doubt that you have 
spent two days and nights in a railway carriage 
simply to bear me that message. I strongly 
suspect there is something more — something that 
is probably not so pleasant to hear.” 

“You are right,” answers Baron von Bieler, 
still serene as ever. “ I am charged with another 
message. It is an order to you to return at 
once.” 

“ To return at once! ” cries Raoul Alexander, 
in dismay. “ Oh, no ; I really cannot do that.” 

“ It is the King’s order!” says Baron von Bie- 
ler, impressively. 

Raoul Alexander is silent for an instant, in 
despair. 

“ But,” he protests, at last, “ what need can there 
possibly be for my presence at court just at this 
time? I cannot see any necessity for my return 
in such haste.” 

“ It is by order of His Majesty, the King ! ” 
repeats Baron von Bieler, more impressively than 
ever. 

“Yes; so I understand,” retorts Raoul Alex- 


A ROYAL REBEL. 


65 


ander, with some asperity. “ Still, this sudden 
decision greatly inconveniences me. It interferes 
with a number of plans. Having really nothing 
to do with affairs of state," he continues, with 
marked dissatisfaction, “ I cannot see why I am 
not left to enjoy myself in peace." 

“ It is precisely your Highness’ methods of 
enjoyment that have brought about this matter," 
says Baron von Bieler, in a confidential tone. 
“ There appears to be a certain husband in Paris 
who strongly objects to one direction in which 
your Highness is pleased to amuse himself — ob- 
jects so strongly, in fact, that the royal name you 
bear is in danger of being brought into unpleasant 
prominence in the courts of law. Neither the 
government of France, nor our own, desires that. 
The French government, deeming a public scandal 
in which high personages are involved to be against 
the interests of its present policy, has sought by 
every means in its power to avert this threatened 
publicity, but without success. It has, therefore, 
formally requested your temporary recall." 

“ The French government asks that I be re- 
called! ” cries Raoul Alexander, dumfounded. 

By way of answer, Baron von Bieler hands him 
a package of confidential dispatches and reports 


66 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


which have passed between the French Foreign 

Office and the Prime Minister of H . A few 

hasty glances quickly verify the accuracy of Baron 
von Bieler’s statements. The French government 
has, indeed, requested a recall — very politely, 
and with a great deal of diplomatic delicacy, but 
very unmistakably for all that ! It is, however, 
the answer rendered to this request by the Prime 

Minister of H that specially arouses Raoul 

Alexander’s ire. 

“ Permit me to tender you the assurance,” 
writes the Prime Minister, uncompromisingly, 
“ that the Prince shall at once receive instructions 
to withdraw.” 

“ Instructions to withdraw ! The impudence 
of the thing ! ” thinks Raoul Alexander to himself 
angrily. “Of what use, indeed, to be a Royal 
Highness if a miserable plebeian of a prime minis- 
ter, lifted into temporary prominence by a paltry 
majority of the votes of the masses, has the power 
to talk about * instructions to withdraw.’ How 
he will put a curb on these democratic tendencies 
when he comes to the throne ! J ust wait and see ! ” 

“ So the Prime Minister,” he says aloud, and 
with sarcastic emphasis, “ undertakes to send me 
instructions to withdraw 


A ROYAL REBEL. 


67 


“ As I have said,” answers Baron von Bieler, 
coldly, “ the order comes from His Majesty, the 
King.” 

‘ Ah ! ” 

“And in accordance with this summons which 
I am charged to bear to you,” continues the 
royal secretary, “ you are directed to set out for 
the capital within twenty-four hours.” 

“ Twenty-four hours! ” cries Raoul Alexander, 
with indignation. 

“ Within twenty-four hours,” repeats Baron 
von Bieler, coolly. “ There is a train leaving in 
the morning and another late in the afternoon. 
Upon which of these will it please your Highness 
to leave ? ” 

“ I will send you word in the morning ! ” 
answers Raoul Alexander, almost too angry to be 
able to articulate distinctly. 

The royal secretary takes no perceptible notice 
of the Prince’s wrath. He is an old servant of 
royalty, yielding a blind obedience to the will of 
his master, the King. To him that will is final. 
That there should be any open rebellion to it, he 
cannot for a moment admit. 

With the same official dignity and calm imper- 
turbability that have characterized his bearing 


68 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


throughout, he brings the interview to a close 
and takes his leave. 

Raoul Alexander at once rejoins Baron Barr 
and acquaints him with the nature of the royal 
secretary’s mission. 

“ And what do you propose to do ? ” inquires 
the Baron, quietly. 

“ What can I do ? ” cries Raoul Alexander, “ I 
can’t remain here.” 

“ Here, no ; for under the circumstances the 
French government might consider it undesirable 
to harbor you and might have you quietly con- 
ducted to the frontier by a file of gendarmes.” 
And the Baron laughs softly, as if greatly enjoy- 
ing this possible situation. 

“What is open to me, then?” cries Raoul 
Alexander, angrily. 

“ It seems to me that two courses are open — to 
obey, or not to obey.” 

“ And suppose I don’t obey, what then ? ” 

“ Then, I should advise a withdrawal to a 
more friendly territory, and from there I would 
enter into a very extended and very diplo- 
matic negotiation on the subject. There is 
nothing like gaining time in matters of this 
kind.” 


A ROYAL REBEL. 69 

“Where would you go?” asks Raoul Alex- 
ander, with interest. 

“ We had, I think,” suggests the Baron, 
“ arranged to go to London and attend the 
American Minister’s ball ? ’ 

" Yes.” 

“Well,” continues the Baron, “why disturb 
our plans ? London is a convenient point from 
which to negotiate diplomatically, and there you 
can also see again your fair American.” 

Raoul Alexander does not hesitate another 
instant : 

“ Mon cher, you are a genius ! ” he cries. “We 
will leave to-night.” 

“ I thought the pretty American would carry 
the day,” laughs Baron Barr, to himself. “ She 
may congratulate herself. She is more mighty 
than the King ! ” 


BOOK II. 

UNDER FALSE COLORS. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 

“ How beautiful! I don’t believe I’ve ever seen 
anything quite so nice as this — so many people, 
such a gay blending of colors, so many glorious 
diamonds, such dresses, such music, such flowers !” 
and Edith Hepworth, flushed with excitement 
and at a loss for words to express her enthu- 
siasm, looks with flashing eyes at her old school 
friend, formerly Helen Austin, of Chicago, now 
Mrs. Herbert Scott-Murray, wife of Captain 
Scott-Murray, of the Second Life Guards. 

It is the ball of the American Minister, an 
event of unusual social importance this year in 
London society. It is a long time since an 
American Minister at the Court of St. James has 
shown any particular qualifications of a social 
nature, and this Minister, recently appointed by 
the new Administration and the descendant of an 
almost sacred figure in American history, has 


THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 7 1 

already given indications of a social aptitude and 
knowledge found sadly wanting in his immediate 
predecessors. London society in general, and 
the so-called “ American colony ” in London in 
particular, have responded, therefore, with marked 
unanimity to the invitations sent out. Society is 
eager to test the quality of the new Minister’s 
hospitality ; society is anxious to verify these 
reports as to his social prowess, and determine 
how substantial a foundation they have in fact. 

On his side, the Minister seems to have spared 
no effort to make his first big entertainment a 
pronounced success. All that the art of the 
florist and the expert decorator can effect in ball- 
room and conservatories has been accomplished, 
and the scene presented is a truly brilliant one. 
The vast ball-room of this roomy London man- 
sion almost suggests a glimpse into fairy land. 
The big mirrors lining the walls, and dec- 
orated with broad borders of smilax and roses, 
catch the shafts of light reflected from the 
great crystal pendants of the chandeliers and flash 
them back in myriad scintillations ; musicians, 
concealed from view in floral arbors, discourse the 
choicest selections of Strauss and Metra and 
Waldteufel ; tropical plants fill the conservato- 


72 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

ries and line both sides of the broad main stair- 
case. 

The rooms, as is usual on such occasions, are 
almost uncomfortably crowded, but the throng is 
unquestionably composed of the very ttite of 
London society. Seated on one of the red velvet 
stools ranged along the walls of the ball-room, 
Edith Hepworth is contemplating the brilliant 
scene before her ; and her friend, in the light of 
her three seasons experience in London, is seek- 
ing to initiate her into some of the secrets of this 
society. 

“ Yes, dear,” she says, “ it is very brilliant ; in 
fact, notably so, even for here. I don’t think I 
remember in a long time any entertainment 
at which so many really distinguished people 
were gathered together. We shall feel quite 
proud of our new Minister. It is time we did, for 
we have had reason enough to be ashamed of 
some of the others.” 

“ How lovely it must be to live here and enjoy 
things of this kind all the time,” cries Edith, 
carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment. 

“ Well,” answers Helen, conservatively, “ one 
gets used to it in time, and once the novelty is 
gone, much of the illusion is gone, too. It is cer- 


THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 73 

tainly more pretentious, more brilliant, if you 
like, than anything we have in Chicago, but I 
don’t know that it’s any more enjoyable, after 
all.” 

“ Why, then, do so many American girls marry 
into European society ? ” 

“ Because, my dear, a great many American 
girls do not know what is good for them- 
selves, and not a few of them subsequently live 
to regret that they did not marry at home, and 
remain there.” 

“ Are there many American women here to- 
night ? ” 

“Yes, quite a number ; although it would be 
difficult for you to pick them out, for the average 
American woman in London society becomes 
more European in her ideas and manners than 
the natives themselves.” 

“ Can it be possible ! Still, I suppose all you 
Americans in London have a sort of fellow feel- 
ing toward one another, coming as you do from 
a common country.” 

“Not by any means, my dear. To tell the 
truth, the bitterest jealousies and rivalries exist 
among the American women in society in Lon- 
don ; and in pursuit of the enmities that have 


74 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


been engendered nothing seems too mean, too 
wicked for some of them to resort to. But I 
don’t want to give you a bad impression from the 
start. I won’t say anything more about that, 
but will simply point out to you some of your 
well-known countrywomen and tell you some- 
thing of their histories.” 

“ Do, please,” exclaims Edith, with interest. 

Just at that moment the band breaks forth 
into one of Strauss’ waltzes — one of those deli- 
cious refrains that cause every nerve to throb and 
thrill with pleasurable emotion — and amid this 
burst of melody Helen bends her lips closer to 
Edith’s ear to be the better heard. 

“You see that lady there,” she says, in strongly 
emphasized whispers, while the music wells 
out its passionate rhythm and the dancers turn 
and sway before them, “ the lady, I mean, with 
the magnificent necklace of pearls — a necklace 
which is famous, and has often been aptly de- 
scribed as worth a king’s ransom. Now is your 
chance — now look! You can hardly see her 
well, there are so many attentive courtiers around 
her. Well, I need hardly tell you who she is. 
You have, of course, recognized her ; she is so well 
known on both sides of the Atlantic. She is the 


THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 75 

real leader of the American colony here, and she 
well deserves that rank, for she not only has the 
means to entertain magnificently, but she also has 
the necessary experience and brains to properly 
manage great social entertainments. Her daugh- 
ter, you know, is a Princess, married to the 
representative of one of the oldest princely houses 
in the world, and she herself has won widespread 
fame alike in Paris and in London as a great 
society queen. She is a woman of whom we 
Americans have good reason to be proud.” 

“She must be very happy,” murmurs Edith, 
gazing with admiration alike at the lady and 
the pearls. 

“ She ought to be,” answers Helen, “ and yet 
even this lady is not free from the attacks of 
spiteful enemies who are envious of her popular- 
ity and success.” 

“ But what can these enemies do to affect a 
lady of her high position ? ” asks Edith. 

“A great many things. You have no idea of 
the outrageous and cowardly methods of warfare 
sometimes resorted to in high society. Just 
imagine: the enemies of this lady have at re- 
peated intervals assailed her through bought up 
articles in venal newspapers — articles in which 


y6 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

the most ridiculous stories are circulated concern- 
ing her career in days when she was not wealthy 
as she is now. These attacks are all the more 
wanton in view of the fact that she is one of the 
few women prominent in London society against 
whom there has never been even a breath of 
scandal.” 

“ One of the few ! ” exclaims Edith. 

At this moment Mr. Halstead, who has secured 
leave of absence from the Legation in Paris to 
attend the London ball, comes to claim Edith 
for a schottische promised him, and Helen also 
goes off on the arm of a tall cavalier, one of her 
husband’s brother officers in the Guards. The 
dance over and the two ladies finding themselves 
once more side by side, Edith re-opens the con- 
versation just where it was broken off. 

“ One of the few ! ” she repeats. 

Helen glances at her for a moment at a loss to 
understand, and then recollecting, resumes the 
thread of her discourse. 

“Yes, one of the few,” she answers. “The 
thought has often occurred to me that the two 
extremes of society — the very high and the very 
low — strongly resemble each other in certain 
respects. If you wish to find real respectability 


THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 77 

and genuine virtue prevailing as the general rule 
you must go to what is termed the ‘ middle- 
class.’ Outrageous cases of immorality, husbands 
leading shameless lives of profligacy and wives 
shamelessly betraying their husbands’ honor, with 
the fact more than half known to the husband 
himself, are comparatively rare in this great 
middle class. For that kind of thing you must 
go — where ? Either to the very lowest or the 
very highest levels of society.” 

“ And is high society in Europe really as cor- 
rupt as all that ? ” 

“ For your answer, my dear, I must refer you 
to the daily newspapers, which you as an Ameri- 
can girl doubtless conscientiously read. You 
must, consequently, have seen from time to time 
scandal after scandal in which persons of this so- 
called highest class were directly involved. And 
what scandals ! Where were such happenings 
ever heard of except, as I have said, in the very 
highest or the very lowest circles of social life ? ” 

“But how does that affect our American 
women here? ” 

“ High society is to-day fearfully profligate 
and, as I have already told you, the average 
American woman in society here becomes more 


78 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


European than the Europeenne herself. The 
zeal of converts is proverbial ! My statement 
that there are comparatively few women in Lon- 
don society whose names are untainted by any 
breath of scandal is strictly true.” 

“ That sounds dreadful ! ” exclaims Edith, 
shocked. 

“ I will give you a couple of instances. You 
see that lady there, talking to the small, dark 
gentleman with the ribbon of the Legion d'hon- 
neur in his button-hole? Well, she is the daugh- 
ter of a well-known New York society woman, 
famous for her numerous eccentricities. A cer- 
tain lord, the descendant of a man famous for 
his letters to his nephew on the conduct becom- 
ing a gentleman, is openly spoken of as her lover. 
That tall, stately-looking lady, with the: Spanish 
cast of features, who has just passed us, is con- 
nected by marriage with probably the wealthiest 
family in all America. She married some years 
ago a debauched English nobleman, to-day a 
peer of the realm, who on account of his vices 
has become so poverty-stricken that he is unable to 
even support her. She, however, is socially ambit- 
ious and of expensive tastes, and the money has to 
come from somewhere. What is the result ? It 


THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 


79 

is whispered on all sides that her establishment 
is maintained by the contributions of a certain" 
eminent Hebrew financier, famous for his gallan- 
tries. The noble husband makes no protest, his 
time being largely taken up with a vulgar music 
hall singer.” 

“ And society tolerates her ? ” 

“ Evidently, since she is here to-night. As 
long as there is no open scandal, no violent and 
public infraction of the proprieties, high society 
is only too willing to close its eyes. I could give 
you a number of other instances, but I don’t want 
to shock you too utterly,” and Helen breaks into 
a pleasant little laugh. 

“ Helen,” whispers Edith, “ I think, after all, I 
should prefer our Chicago society.” 

“ In spite of the divorces ! ” laughs Helen. 
“ Well, perhaps I was wrong, dear, to show up 
the seamy side so strongly. By the way, you 
have by the merest chance missed seeing quite 
a famous personage — a Royal Highness and an 
heir apparent to a throne.” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“Yes; His Royal Highness, Prince Raoul 

Alexander of H , was, I understand, to have 

been here to-night, but he has doubtless been 


8o 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


forced into temporary retirement by that scandal 
which has just broken out. You saw it in this 
afternoon’s newspapers, no doubt.” 

“ No.” 

“ The Comte de Vigny has begun an action 
for divorce against the Countess, and it is rumored 
that the Prince is at the bottom of the trouble. 
As a result, His Royal Highness will have to go 
into at least temporary retirement, for, you know, 
society does not approve of these affairs when 
they make a noise. He will soon emerge from 
his seclusion, though, and be forgiven. Society 
cannot long deal harshly with a Royal Highness.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ These exalted personages have their special 
privileges. Besides, we have here in England 
grown so used to overlooking the offences of our 
own princes of the blood that it would be most 
inconsistent to deal severely with a foreign one. 
I am sorry, though, you did not have the oppor- 
tunity of seeing this Prince Raoul Alexander. 
He is a decidedly handsome man, and a famous 
gallant. If you had had the honor of being pre- 
sented to him — you know we are presented to 
these royal princes, not they to us — you, with 
that pretty face and really perfect figure, would 


THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 8 1 

doubtless have been favored with some of the 
boldest wooing it has ever been your lot to ex- 
perience.” 

“ Would such a man really dare — upon a first 
meeting ? ” exclaims Edith. 

“ Dare ! ” rejoins Helen. I can assure you 
that Prince Raoul Alexander, if the stories told 
of him be only half true, would dare anything. 
You will get used to bold — very bold — flirtations 
before you have been long in high society in Eu- 
rope. The Prince is of the boldest of the bold, 
and his confidence in himself is justified by his 
many conquests.” 

“ Look, Helen,” whispers Edith, “ there is Mr. 
William Hanley Gardiner. Aunt Kate knows 
him and we met him several times in Paris.” 

“ Yes,” answers Helen, “and that gentleman 
with him is no less a personage than Baron Barr, 
the friend of Prince Raoul Alexander of whom 
we were just speaking. Ah, they have seen us. 
They are coming this way, I think.” 

Helen’s surmise is correct, for an instant later 
Mr. Gardiner is standing before them, bowing low 
and presenting his companion, Baron Barr. Mr. 
Gardiner solicits from Helen the honor of a waltz 
and, she accepting, Edith accedes to a like re- 


82 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


quest from the Baron. The latter proves himself 
to be a superb waltzer, one who understands 
so to waltz his partner that she feels as she were 
treading on lightest air. His clasp of her 
waist during the more rapid whirls of the dance 
is a trifle too emphasized, an admiring glance 
which he casts upon her open corsage a trifle 
too bold, but much may be forgiven a partner 
who knows how to waltz exquisitely and who 
talks with decided brilliancy and dash. 

The waltz over he leads her back to her seat 
and, bending over her, continues their conversa- 
tion. 

“ My friend, His Royal Highness Prince Raoul 
Alexander,” he says, presently, “ had the pleasure 
of seeing you at the opera in Paris. He is, un- 
fortunately, prevented by— ah— important state 
affairs from being here to-night. He will greatly 
regret missing this opportunity of a presentation.” 

Edith suddenly remembers the words of her 
friend Helen. A bold gallant, this Prince— and 
one whose confidence in himself is justified by 
his many conquests ! The latent assumption in 
Baron Barr’s tone that she, too, must feel 
equally regretful over this lost opportunity strikes 
her sharply at the moment, and her republic 


THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 83 

can blood suddenly surges up hotly in re- 
volt. 

“ I am not at all sorry,” she answers, delib- 
erately, “that the Prince is not here. I do not 
think I should care to meet him.” 

Baron Barr looks at her closely for an instant, 
in surprise ; then a smile crosses his face, and 
he skilfully turns the conversation. He con- 
tinues talking to her until Mr. Halstead comes 
to claim her for a quadrille. 

“ What do you think of the Baron ? ” whispers 
Helen to her, when some time later they again 
find themselves alone together. 

“A beautiful waltzer, very bright and very 
clever, but — a great deal too bold.” 

Helen laughs. 

“You will get used to that,” she answers. 
“ You ought to have met the Prince.” 

“ I do not care to,” rejoins Edith, “ and I 
told the Baron so.” 

Helen looks at her aghast. 

“You don't mean it!” she cries. “Well, you 
certainly have sustained the reputation of the 
American girl for outspoken frankness. But, 
I'm afraid the Baron will never speak to you 
again.” 


84 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

“ Not at all,” replies Edith. “You know we 
are going in a few days to Bordighera. And, 
what do you think ! the Baron goes there, too. 
Is it not a strange coincidence ! ” 

******* 

It is well into the night when Baron Barr 
returns from the American Minister’s ball to the 
apartments in Piccadilly where Raoul Alexander 
is temporarily stopping. The latter, prevented 
by the sudden outbreak of the Paris scandal 
from attending the ball, is not in the best of 
temper. He is lying on a sofa smoking and 
reading a French novel as the Baron enters. 

“Well?” he mutters, curtly. 

“ I have seen your American charmer and have 
been presented to her,” cries the Baron, gayly, 
“and I have a surprise for you.” 

“ A surprise ! ” 

“Yes; she utterly discountenances your High, 
ness’ proposed attentions; in plain words, she 
wants nothing to do with your Highness.” 

“What!” cries Raoul Alexander, amazed. 

“Miss Edith Zelma Hepworth, of Chicago, 
does not care to make the acquaintance of His 
Royal Highness, Prince Raoul Alexander ! ” 

In response to Raoul Alexander’s eager ques- 


THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S BALL. 85 

tioning, the Baron narrates his experiences and 
the conversation which has passed. 

“Well,” cries His Highness, with a laugh, “we 
must bring this fair republican rebel to terms. 
If the Prince cannot vanquish her, let us see 
what the man can do,” and Raoul Alexander 
looks complacently at his comely personality as 
reflected in the mirrors. 

“All the more credit in the conquest, then,” 
exclaims the Baron. 

“But how about the opportunity?” 

“ It is here at hand,” cries the Baron. “ Her 
estimable aunt, it appears, has caught a severe 
cold — she was not at the ball to-night — and the 
doctors have advised her to try for a time a milder 
climate. As a result of this advice, she and the 
niece are going to Bordighera.” 

“ Bordighera ? ” 

“Yes; a little village in the Riviera, not far 
from Monte Carlo. If you wish, we can go there, 
too. You will, of course, travel for the present 
incognito, and from there we might patch up 
this trouble with your authorities at home. You 
might figure as my brother — my younger 
brother, Baron Alexander Barr — if it so please 
your Highness, and in that role make her ac- 


86 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


quaintance. I have already told her I am bound 
for the Riviera and have asked her permission 
to call.” 

“ But,” remarks Raoul Alexander, with some 
hesitation, “ will it not be rather a — a — queer 
proceeding to figure in an assumed character?” 

“ Is it not a royal privilege,” retorts the Baron, 
“ to travel incog. ? Bordighera is not Paris, and 
you are not likely just at this time of the year 
to meet anybody there who will recognize you.” 

Raoul Alexander ponders for a moment over 
the proposed plan. 

“ Dear brother,” he cries, turning with a laugh 
to the Baron, “ let us go to Bordighera — and 
lay siege.” 


CHAPTER II. 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 

The furnished villa which Mrs. Patterson has 
rented for herself and her niece at Bordighera is 
a well-built, two-story structure, standing in its 
own grounds, and situated in one of the most de- 
sirable parts of the village. Mrs. Patterson and 
Edith are both well pleased with their surround- 
ings, and under the influence of the balmy Riv- 
iera climate the former finds herself rapidly 
recovering from what threatened to be a serious 
chest trouble. 

“You are sure you are not bored here, my 
dear?” asks Mrs. Patterson one day, about a 
week after their arrival, as, seated on the well- 
shaded piazza, they are enjoying the soft, limpid 
air, and admiring the deep azure beauty of the 
skies above them. “ I am afraid it is almost too 
quiet for you. This trip to Europe was to be a 
pleasure trip, and I would not for the world have 
you miss enjoying yourself.” 

“ Enjoy myself, auntie ! ” exclaims Edith, with 


88 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


energy, “ I don’t see how any human being 
with an eye to the beautiful could help enjoying 
themselves here. Such skies, such air, such 
beauty all around one ! ” 

“Yes,” assents Mrs. Patterson, in turn affected 
by Edith’s enthusiasm. “ I can hardly imagine 
how even heaven can be more beautiful. Still, 
young women, I know, generally require some- 
thing more than mere natural beauty. They 
want society, movement, life.” 

“ We can hardly complain of lack of society,” 
answers Edith, demurely. “ Have we not Baron 
Barr, and his brother, Baron Alexander ? They 
surely are a sufficient safeguard against being 
dull ! ” she adds, smiling. 

“ Two very charming young men,” replies Mrs. 
Patterson, “ and both so brimful of life and spir- 
its that it does one good to see them. By the 
way, my dear, I think Baron Alexander is very 
much impressed.” 

“ Impressed ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Impressed with what, auntie?” asks Edith, 
innocently. 

“ Why, with you, dear, of course,” replies Mrs. 
Patterson, bluntly. “ With what else would you 


THE WITCH'S CAVE. 89 

have a young bachelor impressed when a beauti- 
ful young woman is around?” 

“ Oh, auntie ! ” cries Edith, a faint flush of 
color rising to her cheeks. “Just because they 
have been a little pleasant and — and — attentive.” 

“ I flatter myself,” answers Mrs. Patterson, 
with western directness, “ that I understand what 
a young man’s attentions mean. I know what 
that kind of thing would indicate in Chicago, and 
I presume human nature is not so very different 
here from what it is there. I say Baron Alexan- 
der is decidedly smitten.” 

Edith makes no answer to this, and Mrs. Pat- 
terson lapses into meditation. 

She is a good-natured, large-hearted woman, 
not over-refined, perhaps, — for the force of asso- 
ciation will tell, and the late Mr. Patterson was 
blessed with more ability in the line of money- 
making than in the direction of social ethics — but 
well-meaning and solicitous to the highest de- 
gree of her niece’s comfort and enjoyment. Two 
fads she has. The one, a belief that she is of 
frail constitution and constantly ailing; the 
otner, a desire to see her niece, Edith, who is her 
heir, she having no children, make a brilliant 
match. 


90 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


While in Chicago, her ideas on this latter sub- 
ject had shaped themselves in the direction of 
some young man of great wealth and high posi- 
tion, either in the social, financial or political 
worlds. Since the beginning of this European 
trip, however, the suggestion has vaguely pre- 
sented itself to her mind that, perhaps, after all, 
a match might be contracted on this side of the 
water, which would eclipse anything possible in 
America. Why should not Edith do as seems 
so much the fashion among American girls to-day 
— contract one of those international alliances 
which would make her the wife of the titled de- 
scendant of some noble old European house ? 
How pleasant it would be to refer before her 
friends in Chicago to my niece, Lady so and so, 
or my niece, the Baroness this and that ! Since 
coming to Bordighera, and meeting these two 
young nobleman, these reflections have cropped 
up more sharply and more persistently than 
ever. They seemed such really desirable young 
men ! Baron Barr, too, had brought her letters 
of introduction from a prominent American 
society woman in London, who spoke of him 
as belonging to one of the best families in 
France. 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 


91 


Her ideas in this direction, however, she re- 
frains from explaining to Edith who, if anything 
appears to be of rather a democratic turn of 
mind, with no perceptible ambition whatever in 
the direction of making an aristocratic alliance. 
The girl, in fact, has evidently only one idea — to 
see all the new sights in these foreign lands and 
gather all the enjoyment she can out of them. 
She seems to be pleased, entertained, amused by 
what she sees, but not dazzled, and to have at 
the bottom of her mind an idea that America is, 
after all, the greatest and the best of all the 
countries on the face of this earth. 

“ How do you like him ? ” asks Mrs. Patterson, 
suddenly. 

“ Whom, Auntie ? ” asks Edith, feigning not to 
understand. 

“ Baron Alexander, of course.” 

“ I like him better than I liked his brother the 
first time I met him,” is Edith’s non-committal 
answer. 

“Oh, yes; at the American Minister’s ball! 
You did not like the Baron the first time you 
met him ? ” 

“ No ; I thought him somewhat too — too — 
bold,” answers Edith, “but,” with a laugh, “he 


92 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


seems to be toned down, so to speak, by com- 
parison with his big brother.” 

“ Personally,” declares Mrs. Patterson, medita- 
tively, “ I like big men, and between the two, 
although they are both very charming, my choice 
as a young girl, I know, would have gone out 
to the younger brother, Baron Alexander.” 

“ Baron Alexander,” laughs Edith, “ who has 
such funny ideas about America ! What do you 
think he asked me the other day? If we were 
much ‘ troubled by the savages ’ in Chicago ! Is it 
not singular, though,” she continues, “ that of 
these two brothers, the one is so fair and the 
other so dark? ” 

“You often find that in families,” declares 
Mrs. Patterson, sagely. 

I don’t see the slightest likeness between 
them.” 

“No,” murmurs Mrs. Patterson, “Baron 
Alexander is certainly much the handsomer 
of the two, although both have a certain air, 
a certain ease that belongs to the true gentle- 
man. Don’t you find, dear, that the men in 
Europe are somewhat more courtly, more pol- 
ished, than ours at home ? ” 

“In manners and in bearing, perhaps yes,” 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 


93 


answers Edith, slowly, “but it seems to me that 
beneath it all there lurks a certain falseness, a 
certain lack of sincerity. I think, upon the whole, 
that I would often prefer to put my trust in the 
homelier mannered man.” 

“ Still, that grand air has its attraction. By 
the way, Edith, are not our friends to call this 
afternoon ? ” 

“ Yes ; they were to come and we were to go 
out riding. Ah, here is the groom, now, with my 
horse ! ” exclaims Edith, looking down the wind- 
ing road. “ Shall I go, auntie, and put on my 
riding habit ? ” 

“Yes, dear, I would. It might be well, by 
way of a novelty,” she adds, smiling, “ not to 
keep these gentlemen waiting too long.” 

“ I thought one of the first duties of a gallant 
cavalier was to learn how to wait,” is Edith’s 
laughing answer, as she trips across the veranda 
* and disappears in the house. 

Left alone, Mrs. Patterson sits watching the 
groom as he canters up leading the horse Edith 
is to ride. He is an English groom whom, in ac- 
cordance with the advice of her London friends, 
Mrs. Patterson has engaged before leaving Eng- 
land — one of those typical English grooms with 


94 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


ruddy cheeks and trim figure, looking very neat 
and alert in his natty livery. 

“ Ah,” thinks Mrs. Patterson, as the man, 
touching his hat, dismounts before the house and 
stands, stiff as a ramrod, holding the two horses ; 

“ they certainly understand how to train and 
dress their servants over here a good deal better 
than we do. Just look at that man beside our 
Tom, in Chicago ! ” 

At this point, however, Mrs. Patterson’s further 
reflections on the servant question are inter- 
rupted by the noise of clattering hoofs as two 
horsemen, magnificently mounted, appear around 
a turn in the road. An instant later they have 
drawn rein in front of the house and Baron Barr, 
accompanied by Raoul Alexander in the role of 
the former’s younger brother, are at her side. 

Both the gentlemen bow low before her; each 
in turn inquires, with an air of the deepest solici- 
tude, regarding her health; as to how she enjoys * 
the climate; how she finds the air agrees with her 
— to which little attentions Mrs. Patterson, like 
most middle-aged ladies, is by no means imper- 
vious. She answers in a eulogistic strain. The 
climate is agreeing with her wonderfully. She 
notes a marked improvement in her health ! She 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 


95 


finds everything simply perfection ! Thus the 
conversation shapes itself until Edith, in her 
riding habit, makes her appearance on the 
veranda. 

“ I suppose that even in America you hardly 
have such a climate as this, Miss Hepworth?” 
ventures Baron Barr, politely. 

“ Except, perhaps, in California,” answers 
Edith, with a patriotic disinclination to admit 
that America is behind any other land in any- 
thing. 

“Ah, in California!” interposes the soi-disant 
Baron Alexander. “ So you have such a mag- 
nificent climate in California? I suppose you 
often run over there from Chicago?” 

“ Run over there from Chicago ? ” repeats 
Edith, bewildered. 

“ Yes ; is it far ? ” 

“ Almost a couple of thousand miles,” answers 
Edith, calmly. 

“A couple of thousand miles!” is the as- 
tonished exclamation of Raoul Alexander, who 
realizes he has blundered. 

Baron Barr looks at his companion, a faint 
smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. In 
spite of his best efforts, he has been unable to 


g6 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

instil any adequate knowledge as to the geogra- 
phy of the United States into his companion’s 
head. 

“ What splendid horses ! ” cries Edith, looking 
at the animals upon which the gentlemen have 
just ridden up. 

Her praise is well deserved. They are, indeed, 
two magnificent mounts, which have arrived only 
the day before from Raoul Alexander’s stables in 
Paris. 

“ Where shall we ride to-day?” continues 
Edith. 

“ I would suggest we take the Monte Falerno 
road,” answers Baron Barr. “We shall see some 
magnificent scenery, and if Miss Hepworth is 
willing, we can visit the fortune teller’s cave 
which lies just off the road near the little village 
of Valecci.” 

“ A fortune teller’s cave ! ” exclaims Edith. 
“ That sounds very romantic and interesting. I 
should love to go.” 

“ The girl is really wonderful,” declares Baron 
Barr. “ I visited her the other day and she cer- 
tainly astonished me.” 

“ What does she do ? ” 

“ It would be unfair to tell in advance,” 


THE WITCH'S CAVE. 


97 

laughs Baron Barr. “ Is it not better to wait and 
judge for yourself?” 

“Very well,” cries Edith, gayly. “ But I warn * 
you, though, I am burning with curiosity, and 
shall want to gallop all the way there.” 

She walks down the gravelled garden path to 
the gate and, with Raoul Alexander's assistance, 
springs lightly into the saddle. An instant later, 
with a parting salutation to Mrs. Patterson, the 
party is cantering along the road, with Edith’s 
groom at the regulation distance in the rear. 

The road winds its way in easy, graceful curves 
past handsome villas set in flower-decked lawns ; 
past quaint, pretty cottages with flowering vines 
clambering to their low roof-trees from the gar- 
dens that surround them ; out into the open 
country with its green fields, its distant hills and 
mountains more distant still. Each new turn 
in the road discloses a new scene of beauty that 
draws from Edith fresh exclamations of delight. 

“You enjoy this scenery?” asks Raoul Alex- 
ander, as he bends toward her across his horse’s 
mane. 

“ Enjoy it ! ” she exclaims. “ Do not you 
enjoy everything that is beautiful?” 

“Yes.” 


9 8 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


He gives only this simple assent, but he utters 
it with such slow, deep earnestness that Edith 
raises her eyes to his and meets a look that sends 
a strange thrill through her. Her face is already 
flushed with the glow of exhilarating exercise, but 
she feels the flush deepen. Her eyes lower, she 
gives a sharp swish with her whip and her horse 
springs forward a full length ahead of Raoul 
Alexander’s. For the moment she has ceased to 
think of the scenery. 

Baron Barr looks on with an amused, cynical 
smile. To him it is all a very diverting little bit 
of comedy. 

A minute later, the three horses are again can- 
tering in line together, and with the clattering of 
their hoofs, mingle the merry, laughing voices of 
their riders. 

A turn of the road discloses the low, vine-clad 
cottages of Valecci to view. 

“Where is your witch’s cave?” asked Edith, 
turning to Baron Barr. “We must be near her 
dread abode.” 

“ We are,” he replies, and a moment later he 
leads the way into a sort of bridle path off the 
road. 

The path is bordered on either side by a thick 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 


99 


growth of trees whose tangled branches shut out 
the sun’s rays. Entering it from the light and 
brightness of the broad highway, its shade creates- 
an impression of gloom. 

They have advanced but a short distance when 
they see rising among the trees a huge mass of 
rocks, from an opening in the centre of which 
juts a rude, wooden porch. On coming nearer, 
it is seen that in this natural cave, created by the 
cleft in the rocks, there has been built a small 
hut. 

In this hut lives “the witch” — this is The 
Witch’s Cave. 

The horses have just come to a halt, when 
there appears under the little porch a tall, 
gaunt man with long, white hair and flowing 
beard. He turns upon his visitors a pair of dark, 
piercing eyes, and recognizing Baron Barr as one 
whom he has seen before, he bids him welcome. 

Baron Barr dismounts, and Raoul Alexander 
quickly follows his example, immediately offer- 
ing his aid to Edith in alighting. Together 
they approach the old man, and as they do so 
there appears at his side a girl, seemingly 
not more than eighteen of age. She has fair, 
flaxen hair, falling in long braids, eyes of a pale 


100 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


blue, a face almost waxen in its pallor, and a slight 
form, of medium height, clad in a simple, cotton 
gown. On her wrists are heavy gold bracelets 
wrought in curious design, and in her ears heavy 
golden rings graven of the same pattern. 

An ordinary girl, this, at first glance, but upon 
closer scrutiny one is impressed by her strange 
pallor, by the automatic way in which she moves, 
by the lack of expression in the face ; above all, 
by the fixed, vacant look in the eyes. Not the 
vacant look of the blind, for she evidently sees 
the material objects around her, but it is as if she 
not only sees them, but sees into them and 
through them and beholds something not visible 
to the ordinary eye. 

And this is “the witch! ” 

Whether she is the daughter, the grand-daugh- 
ter, or bears any relationship whatever to this old 
man, who ever refers to her as the “ Seeress,” no 
one about the country seems to know, nor is 
it known whence he or she have come. 

Baron Barr informs the old man that they 
wish to consult the “ Seeress,” and Raoul 
Alexander having, in accordance with his re- 
quest, gone through the customary ceremony 
of “crossing her palm with gold,” takes a seat 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 


IOI 


under the porch, while the others gather about 
him. 

The old man stands in- front of the girl, places, 
his hand upon her brow, and looks down into her 
eyes with a fixed, continuous gaze. He makes 
no motion, speaks no word, but as his eyes 
remain fixed upon hers, her head sinks back, all 
life seems to die out of her face, all light out of 
her eyes. 

She looks as ghastly as one dead. 

So weird, so uncanny is the appearance she 
presents, that a feeling of fear comes over 
Edith, and she would yield to her impulse to 
hastily withdraw were she not ashamed to thus 
openly betray her cowardice. 

In obedience to the old man’s directions, 
Raoul Alexander takes the girl’s hand in his. 

“Think of some scene, some place that comes 
clearly, very clearly, to your mind,” whispers the 
old man, his eyes fixed upon the girl. 

Raoul Alexander, not much impressed by the 
proceedings, and believing he is about to go 
through the very ordinary process of having his 
fortune told, pays little heed to these instructions. 
At the moment his mind is to a goodly extent 
filled with thoughts as to two letters forwarded 


102 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


to him from London, and received that morning, 
the one from the King, and the other from the 

Prime Minister of H , both of whom seem 

disposed to take a very serious view of his failure 
to obey the summons to return. The contents of 
these letters have somewhat troubled him. As 
he declares to Baron Barr, he foresees “ a good 
deal of bother ahead.” And, on general princi- 
ples, Raoul Alexander hates “ bother ” of any 
kind. 

For some moments the girl continues holding 
Raoul Alexander’s hand, without any change tak- 
ing place in the listlessness of her attitude. Sud- 
denly, however, she stirs slightly, and the pupils 
of her eyes begin to dilate. An instant later 
her lips part, and from them comes a voice as 
from a distance, yet the words are very distinct. 

“ I see,” she murmurs, “ a large and beautiful 
palace. It looks like a king’s palace. ... A 
carriage is coming along the road. It passes 
through the gates and is in the great courtyard 
now. See ! the soldiers are turning out and pre- * 
senting arms. ... A man has stepped from the 
carriage. He is tall and thin, and dressed in 
black, and there is bright ribbon at his breast. 
His face is hard and cold. He ascends the broad 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 


103 


stairway of the palace, and men in uniforms and 
costumes of strange colors fall back in deep 
respect. ‘ The Prime Minister,’ they whisper. *. 

“ And now he has passed on and on and on, 
through great rooms with beautiful pictures and 
ornaments, and little statues upon marble col- 
umns, and he is talking to an old man with white 
hair and white beard, and a great look of care in 
his face. . . . ‘Your Majesty,’ he is saying, ‘I 
have come to present to you the report I have 
obtained of the whereabouts and movements of 
His Royal Highness, the heir apparent . . . . 
After leaving Paris he went to London, where he 
remained but a short time. Thence, under the 
name of — ” 

For some minutes past, Raoul Alexander has 
been gazing at the girl with widely opened eyes, 
curiously fascinated, strangely spell-bound. At 
this point, however, with almost rude energy, he 
suddenly wrenches his hand from her, and drops 
back a step. 

Baron Barr looks at him sharply, warningly. 

“Take care — take care!” whispers the old 
man, cautioningly. “ Beware how you shock her 
thus suddenly ! ” 


104 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


The instant Raoul Alexander’s hand has left 
hers, the girl has ceased speaking, and seems to 
be rapidly developing symptoms of great lassi- 
tude and fatigue. 

The old man makes several rapid passes 
before her face, but no change manifests itself 
in the girl’s appearance. 

“ No use,” he murmurs, presently. “ You have 
disturbed the influence. I fear I cannot again 
bring her into communication with you — at least, 
not to-day.” 

“ I am sorry,” answers Raoul Alexander, “ that 
a sudden twinge of neuralgia should have inter- 
rupted the — ah — seance. I am subject to these 
sudden sharp twinges, though, and they are very 
painful, I can assure you. Do you not wish,” he 
continues, turning to Edith, “ to try her? ” 

Edith hesitates. 

“ Let her tell you your fortune, lady,” urges 
the old man, with a sign to Raoul Alexander to 
again cross the girl’s palm with gold. 

With perceptible reluctance, Edith puts her 
hand within the girl’s. The old man, apparently 
somewhat annoyed by the failure to complete 
the “ seance” in Raoul Alexander’s case, mo- 
tions to the latter. 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 


105 


“ You too,” he whispers, “you too join hands, 
and she can then choose for which one she will 
speak.” 

It is Raoul Alexander s turn to hesitate. 

“ Are you afraid?” asks Edith, with a slight 
smile. 

Instantly Raoul Alexander steps forward and 
extends his hand. 

As before, the girl is motionless for a time, and 
then the pupils of her eyes begin to grow larger. 
She shudders several times, and the old man, 
watching her intently, seems somewhat puzzled. 

Suddenly, into the “ seeress’ ” face there comes 
a look of fear and horror. Her eyes glare wildly 
before her, her features begin to work convul- 
sively, and then from her disturbed lips comes 
one prolonged, fearful, uncanny scream, and as 
Edith, dismayed and pale, starts away, she sinks 
writhing to the ground. 

Quickly the old man bends over her, and with 
a few long, sweeping, downward passes, manages 
to restore her to comparative calmness. 

“ That is bad — bad,” he croons to himself, as 
he proceeds with his work. 

“What was it — what was the matter?” asks 
Edith, not yet recovered from her alarm. 


10 6 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

“ A bad omen, lady — a bad omen ! ” croaks 
the old man ; but anything more explicit it 
seems impossible to glean from him. 

“ When she wakes can we not learn what she 
saw?” inquires Edith. 

“ No,” answers the old man, “no, lady. She 
will remember nothing.” 

“ Let us go,” whispers Edith, still agitated by 
the experience, turning to her companions. 

In obedience to her wish, they immediately 
remount, and start on the return to Bordighera. 
During the ride back, Edith still seems under the 
influence of the experience through which she 
has passed. Her merry laughter no longer rings 
out, and she takes little part in the conversation 
her companions attempt to keep up. 

“ I wonder what ‘ the witch ’ can have seen ! ” 
remarks Baron Barr to Raoul Alexander, as they 
ride slowly home in the twilight. 

Raoul Alexander turns in his saddle and looks 
into his companion’s face. 

“That was a remarkable experience — decidedly 
remarkable,” he answers, deliberately. 

“Yes,” rejoins the Baron, “and, by the way, 
that was a narrow escape you had on the ques- 
tion of identity.” 


THE WITCH’S CAVE. 


107 


“ A narrow escape, indeed ! ” replies Raoul Al- 
exander. “ Another word might have spoiled 
everything. That would have been too bad.” 

“You think so ? ” 

“Think so? Yes! I tell you I never in my 
life had a more violent fancy.” 

“ Well ; she would have found a prince, and I 
should have lost a brother.” 

“ Thank you. I don’t care for any such sur- 
prises — not, at least, for the present. Later, per- 
haps,” and Raoul Alexander smiles meaningly, 
“ ah, it may be different ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 

The kingdom, to the throne of which Raoul 
Alexander is the heir presumptive, borders upon 
two great states, either one of which would have 
absorbed it long ago had it not been for the 
jealous opposition of the other. 

The two great states in question had never 
been able to arrive at a satisfactory understand- 
ing as to just upon what basis should be arranged 
the partition of this little kingdom between them, 
each being in mortal dread lest one should get 
more out of the bargain than the other. The 
sovereigns, too, of other states took a malicious 
delight in interfering in the question. Not that 
this matter of annexation affected their respective 
interests in the least, or that they were in the 
least concerned as to whether this particular 
people maintained their national autonomy or 
not ; but then, actuated by sentiments similar to 
those inspiring the traditional dog in the manger, 
they could not bear to see neighbors enjoy- 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. IO9 

ing a fat bone of which they were to get no 
part. 

“ Take this bit of country by all means,” the 
head of this or that government would announce 
practically and in substance ; “ but for heaven’s 
sake ! cede to us this island, or that colony, if 
you expect us to keep quiet on the subject. Do 
this, or there will be trouble ! ” 

And so it was that at times during the past 
few decades the question of the partition, or non- 
partition of this little kingdom had been a burn- 
ing question in European politics. So much 
discord had been engendered on the subject, in 
fact, that at different periods hundreds upon 
hundreds of thousands of armed men had been 
gathered on various frontiers, prepared to shoot 
each other down and cut each others’ throats at 
a moment’s notice— and all this over a matter about 
which they individually did not care a button 
and simply because their respective rulers had a 
difference over a piece of property that belonged 
to some one else. 

Fortunately, however, at the last moment 
diplomacy had so far always stepped in and 
actual bloodshed been averted. Then, after an 
almost interminable interchange of diplomatic 


lO 


his Royal highness. 


communications, men of dignified mien atjd 
heavily salaried, had met in this or that European 
capital and had argued with each other for 
months, without even approaching within meas- 
urable distance of the point at issue, in the 
meantime bombarding each other with fine 
phrases and compliments of which they did not 
honestly mean a single word. Finally, after all 
this fuss and expenditure of time, some agree- 
ment was eventually arrived at which satisfied 
nobody and which left the door open for any 
amount of future misunderstanding and dispute. 
This great final result having been reached, a 
banquet was usually deemed necessary to cap the 
matter as a whole. Not a convivial banquet for 
the purposes of enjoyment and good-fellowship, 
but simply for the sake of formal speeches pro- 
claiming the mutual accord of kings — kings who in 
private vowed to themselves one of the other : 
“Wait, my fine fellow. I’ll squeeze you some 
day yet ! ” 

Thus it was that Raoul Alexander’s futun 
kingdom had contrived to maintain its indepen 
dence — an independence of which it was very 
proud, and which it vaunted so loudly that at 
times the powerful neighbors were quite incensed 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 


Ill 


thereby and almost led to enter into an agree- 
ment that would have very effectually suppressed 
it, for good and all. The elements of friction 
and discord at work within the kingdom, however, 
rivalled the dissension and strife of which it was 
the cause among other nations of the continent. 
During the reign of the present King, Raoul 
Alexander’s father, a marked liberal spirit had 
developed itself — a spirit, in fact, verging strongly 
upon democratic doctrines. Under the pressure 
of public feeling the form of government had 
already been changed from an autocratic to a con- 
stitutional one, and yearly fresh concessions were 
being wrung from the governing class to the 
people. The clergy, at one time a power in the 
land, no longer counted for much, and the great 
public offices, formerly monopolized by members 
of the nobility, were now largely filled by men 
from the people, whose only title to office was 
energy and brains. 

The King, a monarch of easy temperament and 
kindly heart, although entirely opposed alike by 
principle and education to this growing spirit of 
democracy, found himself utterly unable to stem 
it, and, like a sensible monarch, sought to make 
the best out of the inevitable. His royal com 


1 12 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


sort, however, a woman of strong character and a 
daughter of the most absolute autocrat in the 
civilized world, viewed the progress of events with 
mingled indignation and dismay. To the utmost 
extent of her power, she sought to induce the 
king to make head against the further extension 
of democratic tendencies, and to take a bold 
stand in defence of any wider infringements 
upon the monarchical supremacy and power. 
Loving the Sovereign with infinite wifely de- 
votion, revering him not alone as her husband 
and the father of her children, but also as her 
King, this one question of the upholding of the 
dignity and power of the royal state was the 
sole subject of difference between them. 

“ If fear of the fate of Louis XVI. influences 
you in yielding to these Jacobins, do as you 
think best ! ” she exclaimed to him one day, 
when it was a question of affixing the royal sig- 
nature to a specially obnoxious measure passed 
by the Chambers ; “ but let me assure you that 
no fear of encountering the fate of Marie Antoi- 
nette would ever intimidate me ! ” 

“ I am not so much thinking of ourselves, n 
answered the King, gently, “ as of our subjects. I 
hesitate before the possibility of provoking a 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 


113 

civil war. I wish at least to go down to my 
grave in a shroud that is not stained by the 
blood of my people.” 

“ But what if it be the blood of rebels ! ” 

“ Ah, if it were only a question of the rebels 
suffering, that would perhaps be another mat- 
ter. But Xvhat of the blood of our own support- 
ers?” 

Again, upon another occasion : 

“Are we not monarchs?” cried she im- 
patiently. “ Have we not been chosen by 
Divine will to govern the masses ? If so, why 
all these concessions to the so-called ‘ voice of 
the people ? 9 If not, what are we doing upon 
the throne? Why not renounce this empty 
shadow of majesty ? If you are indeed, King ‘ by 
the grace of God/ why should you yield that 
‘ good pleasure of the King ’ which is your right ? 
If you are not, what are we doing here? Would 
it not be better to abandon this empty, meaning- 
less state and betake ourselves elsewhere ? ” 

“ Betake ourselves elsewhere ! ” echoed the 
King, with a sigh from the heart ; “ easy enough 
to say, but whither shall we go? To what cor- 
ner of the earth can we withdraw and still retain 
our dignity? Forcibly dethroned by a revolution, 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


1 14 

a species of martydom would surround us with its 
halo ; but to withdraw of ourselves — we may not 
even think of it ! This earth, big as it is, would 
have no place for us. The law of circumstances, 
if you will, has placed us at certain special 
heights, excluding us from the ordinary ranks of 
humanity. What do we understand of anything, 
except reigning? Nothing! Uncrowned, what 
are we? Simply fantastic beings, cut off from 
the ordinary resources open to men. To us alone 
the rights of citizenship are denied by the nations 
of the earth. Deprived of our thrones we be- 
come a source of uneasiness and inconvenience 
to even our brother monarchs — so much so that 
even your father, absolute as is his power, would 
hardly know what to do with us. No ; believe 
me, my dear Marie, to reign is all that is left to us.” 

“ But,” cried the Queen, angrily, “ can it be 
called reigning to submit to the will of men of 
inferior rank and birth, who often have scrambled 
into parliament by trickery, by appealing to the 
low prejudices of the masses, and by heaven 
knows what other disgraceful methods ! and who 
impose upon you Ministers whose every idea is con- 
trary to all monarchical traditions — opposed to the 
very principles by virtue of which you are King?” 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 1 1 5 

“ Yes,” answered the King, mildly, “ this is still 
reigning , but not governing. How can we change 
it? What can we do? Resist, you suggest. 
Brave public opinion, and set the constitution 
aside. That would mean civil war, revolution, 
suicide ! Where should I look for support ? To 
the church? Much too prudent, my dear, the 
church to compromise itself! To the nobility, 
then ; and such of the people as still cling to 
the old-time traditions and ideas? Too small a 
body, I answer you, to offset against those who 
would be arrayed in opposition to us. As for the 
nobility, its power, its dignity, like our own have 
vanished. Rank to-day is a mere gilded shell 
without a kernel. You may call me timorous, 
but I confess I cannot calmly face the chances 
of imperiling the succession of my son. Who 
knows? Perhaps in his time there may be a re- 
action from the democratic ideas that at present 
prevail, and the day may come when he may be 
able to restore the throne to its old-time glory 
and power.” 

And at these words the Queen can only sigh, 
and retire to her oratory to pray for the dawning 
of that day. 

Thus matters are progressing in the kingdom of 


1 16 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

H- , while Raoul Alexander, in his role of a 

French baron, is pursuing the bent of his incli- 
nations at sunny Bordighera. On the very day 
of his visit with Edith and Baron Barr to the 
“Witch’s Cave,” the Queen is seated with the 
King in the large room in the royal palace which 
His Majesty is wont to use for the transaction of 
business appertaining to affairs of state, when 
the Prime Minister, who has prayed audience 
with the sovereign, is announced. Now this 
Prime Minister is a special object of aversion to 
the Queen. To her he represents the incarnation 
of all that is opposed to the throne and the pre- 
rogatives of royalty. She dreams of him at night 
as some hydra-headed monster ; his very ap- 
proach causes her to shudder. 

To tell the truth, the Prime Minister’s personal 
appearance is not such as to be calculated to 
make a favorable impression upon the ladies. 
Tall and lean and ugly, with stooping shoulders 
and a stern face, he has the appearance, in his 
black clothes and white cravat, of a village 
schoolmaster dressed up for some gala occasion. 
But, in spite of it all, there is a certain force 
about the man, a certain latent power that com- 
mands respect. As far as the Queen’s views of 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 1 17 

his political sentiments are concerned, she is not 
so very wrong. He has been one of the most 
important factors in curtailing the royal suprem- 
acy, and in building up the power of the people. 
Under his administration the public offices have 
been awarded solely according to the qualifica- 
tions of the candidate, without regard to birth or 
rank, and to the almost total exclusion of mem- 
bers of the aristocracy. 

“ The aristocracy,” he was reported to have 
said privately, and quoting the words of General 
Foy, “ the aristocracy of the Nineteenth Century 
is a coalition of those who seek to enjoy without 
having produced, to live without having labored, 
to monopolize all honors and emoluments without 
having earned them, to seize upon the public 
offices without being qualified to fill them — that 
is your aristocracy ! ” 

By some he was even credited with having 
sinister designs upon the monarchical system — 
with a desire to do away with the throne. 

“Bosh!” he had replied impatiently to a 
friend, when sounded on this subject. “ Why 
should I seek to destroy the monarchical system ? 
What for? Leave it alone. It will go to pieces 
of itself.” 


I 18 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

As soon as the announcement is brought to the 
King that the Prime Minister is awaiting audi- 
ence with His Majesty, the Queen rises. 

“ Nay,” exclaims the King, motioning to her 
to re-seat herself, “ do not leave. The Minister 
seeks audience to make certain communications 
to us regarding Raoul Alexander. It would be 
well for you to remain and hear/’ 

In obedience to the wish thus expressed, the 
Queen resumes her seat and the Prime Minister is 
ushered in. 

“ I have come, Sire,” he says, after bowing low 
before the royal pair, “to report to your Majesty 
the result of the inquiry instituted with regard 
to the whereabouts and movements of His Royal 
Highness, the heir apparent. The Chief Secre- 
tary of the Foreign Office has forwarded me a 
report — obtained only after much difficulty and 
through the employment of secret agents — which 
sets forth that after leaving Paris His Royal 
Higness went to London, where he remained but 
a short time. Thence, under the name of Baron 
Alexander Barr, he went to Bordighera, a small 
Italian town on the borders of France, where he 
now is.” 

“ It is at least well,” answers the King with 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 


119 

dignity, “ that under the circumstances he sought 
an obscure place such as this and that he jour^ 
neys incognito. Now that we know where he is, 
we will send him our imperative command to re- 
turn at once.” 

“ Or, if your Majesty will permit the sugges- 
tion,” says the Prime Minister, “ since to return 
seems so distasteful to His Highness, an alterna- 
tive might be presented to him. If, for instance, 
a suitable yacht were fitted out for him, he might 
spend a year or so in visiting other continents 
and thus acquire experiences and a knowledge 
that might be profitable to him in the future. It 
could, too, be presented in that light to the peo- 
ple.” 

“ Yes,” assents the King, “ that seems to us a 
wise plan and one that would meet our pleasure. 
It would be desirable, we deem, that he should be 
away from Europe for some time.” 

“ Most desirable, Sire,” replies the Minister, sig- 
nificantly, “if His Highness will only consent to 
the proposed arrangement, of which I have some 
fears. If, however, he insists upon remaining and 
continues his recent course of living, I foresee 
serious complications in the near future. It 
might be well for your Majesty to warn him that 


120 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


in case of his refusal to either travel or return, he 
may find the revenues at present allowed him by 
the state materially reduced.” 

“ His revenues reduced ! “ exclaims the Queen, 
in a shocked tone. 

“ Yes,” replies the Prime Minister, “I cannot 
answer for the action of the Chambers if His 
Highness should continue much longer in his late 
course. The more radical section of the press 
has been discussing for some time past the large 
amount of money allowed by parliament to the 
heir apparent, and complaining that it should be 
spent in such a manner and in other countries. 
The temper of parliament is very peculiar 
just at the moment. It is quite possible that a 
motion to reduce the allowance from the nation 
— perhaps to suspend it altogether — might be 
introduced, unless he changes his manner of liv- 
ing.” 

The Queen listens to these words with rising 
indignation. 

“ They would dare to act thus with a member 
of the royal family — with their future King ! ” she 
cries. “ Were I the King and they should at- 
tempt thus to treat my son, the heir apparent, I 
would have the deputies who conspired to bring 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 


12 


forward such a measure seized in their seats and 
cast into prison !” 

“ Your Majesty forgets the constitution,” says 
the Prime Minister, with a grim smile. 

“ I would tear it up ! ” is her reply. 

“ Ah, your Majesty speaks as the true daughter 
of an autocrat,” says the Prime Minister, with 
the same grim smile upon his lips ; “ but this is a 
different country from that in which your Maj- 
esty was born — different, much different, even 
from itself fifty years ago, and it is daily progress- 
ing further in the direction it has taken.” 

“ I cannot believe that it will go much fur- 
ther,” replies the Queen. “ On the contrary, I 
believe there will be a reaction, a return to the 
divine and paternal form of government that res- 
cued man from barbarism.” 

“ Will your Majesty permit me to read a few 
lines ? ” asks the Prime Minister. 

The Queen, her curiosity aroused, indicates her 
consent. The Prime Minister takes from his 
pocket a paper and gravely and impressively 
reads : 

“ All things that a century ago fought for the old order 
of things — religions, laws, manners, customs, property, 


122 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


privileged classes, and corporate bodies — have vanished 
into thin air. 

“ Kingdoms which have emerged from the territorial lim- 
its settled by late treaties are things of yesterday. Love of 
country has lost its force, because the word ‘ country ' is of 
uncertain meaning to peoples sold at auction, like old furni- 
ture, — sometimes joined to the territories of their hereditary 
enemies ; at other times, delivered over to strange masters. 
Turned up and raked over, the ‘ native soil ’ is thus pre- 
pared for the reception and fructification of the seed of 
democracy. 

“ Kings fondly fancy that by standing sentinel over 
their thrones they can arrest the march of intellect. 
They persuade themselves that by multiplying customs- 
houses, soldiers, policemen and spies, they can keep out 
thought ! 

“ But thought does not travel afoot ; it flies ; it is in the 
air we breathe. Absolute governments that establish tele- 
graphs, railways, and steamships, and expect at the same 
time to keep the minds of their subjects on the level of the 
political dogmas of the Fourteenth Century are illogical. 
They are between the two stools — progress and conserva- 
tism. They fall to the ground and are confounded. 

“What is all that demagogic tirade ! ” cries the 
Queen, impatiently. “ Some socialistic jargon 
intended to muddle the minds of the masses ? ” 

“ No, your Majesty/' gravely replies the Prime 
Minister; “it is an extract from the letters of 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 1 23 

Chateaubriand to the Dauphin, which I have had 
copied by a secretary.” 

The King, realizing that the conversation has 
taken a turn of a particularly exciting nature for 
his royal consort, hastens to interpose and change 
the subject, and a few minutes later the Prime 
Minister prepares to withdraw. 

“We will send our secretary, Baron von Bieler, 
to Bordighera,” are the king’s final words, “ and 
have him present to the Prince the propositions 
you have outlined.’' 

“ I trust that Baron von Bieler’s mission may 
be attended with success,” answers the Prime 
Minister formally, as he bows and retires. 

Left alone with the King, the Queen sits with 
her eyes fixed upon the ground, an expression of 
melancholy upon her face. The King goes to 
her and lays his hand with a caressing motion 
upon her shoulder, 

“ What are you thinking about so deeply, my 
dear?” he asks. 

She looks up at him with a tender smile. 

“ I am thinking, ” she answers, sadly, “ over 
ideas to which the words of your Minister 
have given rise. Can it really be possible,” she 
continues with emotion, “ that royalty is at its 


124 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


last days — that the system of monarchical rule is 
rapidly approaching its end? You and I, no 
doubt, will be spared experiencing the end, but 
what a prospect for poor Raoul and his imme- 
diate descendants ! Ah, these thoughts make me 
sad, very sad ! And it would seem, too, as if 
those of royal race, realizing that ail their ancient 
glory is passing from them, no longer seek to live 
up to their high estate, and are willing to aid the 
rabble in the work of trailing the royal purple in 
the dust. See, for instance, our son. What a 
life for a future ruler of a people to lead ! Then, 
too, my father — ” 

She stops suddenly, tears choking her voice, 
at this reference to her aged and imperial father, 
who after having forced his wife, the Queen’s 
mother, during the last years of her life to sup- 
port the presence in the imperial palace of a 
mistress by whom he had several children, had 
within a year of the empress’ death married mor- 
ganatically this mistress. 

“ No,” continues the Queen, looking up with 
brimming eyes at the King, as he endeavors to 
console her, “ do not seek in your tenderness 
and pity to comfort me with words in which 
you yourself do not place any faith. No, no; 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 1 25 

oh, my husband, my King! let us rather look the 
bitter truth full in the face, and behold matters 
as they are. If, as it truly seems, we must 
succumb — we are lost ; let us at least die in a 
way worthy of our race — our heads high, and 
wrapped about with the last remnants of our 
Majesty ! ” 

And as the King takes her to his heart, 
seeking tenderly to soothe her, she sinks her 
head upon his breast and weeps bitterly. 


CHAPTER IV. 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 

As the days go by, Raoul Alexander and 
Baron Barr become more and more frequent vis- 
itors at Mrs. Patterson’s villa, and the two gentle- 
man strengthen by their high-bred courtesy and 
many polite attentions the good impression they 
have already made upon their hostess. During 
each visit it somehow happens that before long 
Raoul Alexander and Edith drift apart together, 
while Baron Barr devotes himself to the enter- 
tainment of the aunt. This occurs wherever the 
little party of four may be — on the terrace in the 
evening; during their strolls about the village, or 
lounging on the beach, fanned by the cool, salt 
breezes that sweep in from over the Mediterra- 
nean’s blue waves. 

Nor is Mrs. Patterson unobservant, or dis- 
pleased. 

The ambitious hope she has conceived that 
Edith may contract a brilliant match and enter 
the ranks of the nobility, has become a keen 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 12 J 

desire now that she sees a possibility of its actual 
realization. 

“Surely,” she says to herself, “ no one can 
mistake Baron Alexander’s behavior for anything 
but that of a lover. His every motion, his every 
look denote that ! ” 

But as to Edith herself, Mrs. Patterson finds it 
more difficult — even impossible — to come to any 
conclusion. She has abandoned as useless all 
attempts to fathom what are her niece’s true 
feelings on this interesting subject. 

And Raoul Alexander himself is equally in the 
dark. He finds Edith an interesting, fascinating, 
tantalizing enigma ; something decidedly new in 
his experiences of women, fraught with numer- 
ous memories of easy conquests, won to him not 
alone by his physical attractions, but also by the 
glamour which in monarchical lands surroundst he 
man of royal rank. Edith does not avoid him ; 
she does not seek in any way to escape being 
alone with him ; in fact, she seems to take pleas- 
ure in his company. He certainly cannot com- 
plain that he has not opportunities enough to 
make love to her; but every step in that direc- 
tion is met with such a frank unconsciousness, 
such an easy self-possession, such an utter absence 


128 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


of that melting, conquered mien he has hitherto 
been wont to behold in the objects of his atten- 
tion. Decidedly, he thinks to himself, these 
American girls hold themselves high and are not 
to be lightly won ! 

Thus it is that this accomplished gallant, this 
past master in the arts of wooing, finds himself 
held well in check before the clear, frank eyes of 
this girl from across the seas. That she likes 
him, is fairly evident; but is there anything 
more than mere liking? To solve this question 
in the affirmative Raoul Alexander would give 
much. 

“Sometimes,” he exclaims one day to Baron 
Barr ; “ sometimes I feel like seizing her in my 
arms and raining kisses upon her lips until she is 
forced to say : ‘ I love you ! ’ ” 

“ Suppose she said : < I hate you/ ” laughs 
Baron Barr. 

“ Even so,” impatiently retorts Raoul Alexan- 
der, “ a storm is better any time than a dead 
calm.” 

Two days later, there arrives at Bordighera a 
small, single-masted yacht, which Raoul Alexan- 
der has chartered by telegraph. It is a neat, 
trim vessel, with graceful lines, evidently speedy, 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 129 

and perfect in its appointments as far as its size 
permits. It is manned by two sailors and a sail- 
ing-master. 

As soon as Raoul Alexander is informed of its 
arrival, he and Baron Barr go down to the shore 
to inspect the little craft, and finding it in perfect 
order, they turn their steps toward Mrs. Patter- 
son’s villa. 

Some days before, Raoul Alexander has noti- 
fied Edith and her aunt of the coming of the 
yacht, and has expressed the hope that they 
will honor him and his vessel by taking part in a 
sailing excursion. 

“ Oh that will be delightful ! ” is Edith’s reply. 
“ Every time I look out at the sea, I long to be 
upon it. The water looks so blue and smiling 
here.” 

Mrs. Patterson is, by no means so enthusiastic 
in her acceptance of the invitation — to tell the 
truth, she is a poor sailor — but she has promised 
to go if her health permits. 

When Raoul Alexander and Baron Barr reach 
the villa, they are received by three ladies — Mrs. 
Patterson, Edith and a Mrs. Enright, a young 
matron from Chicago, who is making a trip 
through Europe with her husband and who has 


130 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

come to Bordighera to visit Mrs. Patterson, while 
he is attending to some business at Bordeaux. 

The two gentlemen having been presented to 
Mrs. Enright, Raoul Alexander imparts the infor- 
mation as to the arrival of his yacht. As it is 
still early in the forenoon, and both wind and 
weather are favorable, he suggests that the three 
ladies join him and Baron Barr in making a trial 
trip. 

Mrs. Patterson pleads a headache as an excuse 
for escaping an attack of seasickness ; but she sug- 
gests that Edith go — under Mrs. Enright’s chap- 
eronage. 

The suggestion is approved by all, and the two 
ladies retire to make themselves ready for the 
day’s excursion. When they reappear, Edith 
wears a natty little sailor hat that gives her a very 
jaunty, coquettish look, and a plain cloth dress 
that is alike admirably suited for the haps and 
mishaps of sailoring, and for the display of the 
graceful outlines of her comely form. Mrs. En- 
right, the chaperon, who is but little older than 
her charge, has also donned a gown fitted for the 
deck of a yacht, and at the same time decidedly 
becoming. 

“ These American women certainly understand 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 131 

the art of dressing well,” thinks Raoul Alexan- 
der to himself. 

They set out gayly, two by two, Baron Barr, 
apparently by no means dissatisfied with his lot, 
devoting his attention to this buxom Chicago 
matron, and leaving Raoul Alexander to take 
charge of Edith. 

Arrived at the shore, both the ladies are warm 
in their expressions of admiration of the little 
craft, and this admiration increases to enthusiasm 
when they descend to the cabin and perceive the 
daintiness and comfort of its fitting up. 

Meanwhile the sailors have weighed anchor, 
the sails have been hoisted, and the yacht is 
gliding out over the blue waters. When the 
beach is a mile or more astern, the course is 
changed and they sail along the coast — a coast 
rich in ever changing pictures of sloping hills 
and flowering vales, with the blue capped 
mountains looming up picturesquely in the back- 
ground and the glorious Italian sunshine over all. 

Edith and Mrs. Enright are seated in wicker- 
work lounging chairs on the deck, a snow-white 
awning stretched overhead. Mrs. Enright is 
chatting gayly with Baron Barr, the suggestion of 
a lively flirtation in the lady’s coquettish glances 


132 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


and the Baron’s beaming smiles. Edith, beside 
whom is seated Raoul Alexander, is somewhat 
less lively, less voluble, than her gay chaperon, 
but her pleasure is, perhaps, none the less keen. 
Her eyes rest upon the picturesque shore with 
warm appreciation of its beauty, and then, turn- 
ing in the opposite direction, watch with equal 
delight the long, rolling waves, with their pale 
green crests, stretching far, far away to the dis- 
tant horizon. There is pleasure for her, too, in 
the soft, sweet breezes fanning her cheeks ; in 
the low murmuring of the sea ; in the softly 
swaying motion of the little craft, as it rises and 
falls with rhythmic motion in its passage over the 
waters. 

Raoul Alexander is also, no doubt, appealed to 
in a measure by the natural beauty about him, 
for he is vaguely conscious at the moment of an 
infinite sense of well-being. He leans back in his 
chair and gazes upon the fair, bright face before 
him — a face whose brilliancy of coloring is 
heightened by the passing breezes, and whose 
eyes look dreamy and soulful in their half volupt- 
uous contemplation of the glories of sea and land. 

“ How lovely it all is ! ” she murmurs with 
a sigh of happiness. 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 


133 


“ You are enjoying yourself? ” he asks, eagerly. 

“ I never felt more happy than I do just now/’ 
she says, softly. 

“ You do not know how glad it makes me to 
hear you say that!” replies Raoul Alexander, 
with a meaning glance. 

Both words and glance seem, however, lost 
upon her, for her eyes are looking away to the 
sea, apparently entirely taken up in watching the 
play of the waves as they roll lazily in from the 
horizon to the shore. 

“You like the sea?” he asks, bent upon draw- 
ing her attention to him. 

Slowly she turns her eyes toward him : 

“ I love it,” she answers. 

The hot blood mounts to Raoul Alexander’s 
cheeks. Love it ! How sweet the word sounds 
upon her lips ! 

“You are not at all afraid of the water?” he 
continues. 

“ Not in the least.” 

“ I am glad of that,” he rejoins, “ for, that being 
the case, you will not mind our going further out 
to sea. It will be pleasanter,” he adds, “ than to 
keep tacking and trimming along the coast.” 

“Certainly not! ” cries Edith, with gay enthu- 


134 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


siasm, “ let us go far — far out to sea. As far as 
America, if you like ! ” 

Raoul Alexander laughs. 

“ I am willing,” he declares, “ if you will only 
promise that you will not grow tired of the voy- 
age and — your company.” 

He gives an order to the sailing master, and a 
moment later the vessel’s sharp, graceful bow 
turns away from the coast, and the yacht bounds 
over the waves, seaward. 

At this point one of the sailors, acting as stew- 
ard, makes his appearance with a couple of large 
hampers, and in a remarkably short space of time 
a decidedly substantial luncheon is being served 
on deck. All manner of choice delicacies are 
there, together with a fine assortment of cham- 
pagnes and liquors. No matter what the condi- 
tions may be, Raoul Alexander never fails to pro- 
vide carefully for the inner man ! 

In him and in Baron Barr Mrs. Enright and 
Edith have two most gallant cavaliers, who wait 
upon their every want with eager attention. 
Surely, neither on land nor sea can there be 
found a brighter, merrier luncheon party than 
this, on the shaded deck of the little yacht that 
still flies seaward. 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 


35 


It is now early afternoon, but no one notes the 
passing of the hours. Did any of them look 
astern, they would see that the shore has sunk 
to a low, dark line, its prominent features grown 
hazy and indistinct in the distance. But no one 
does think of looking back as they gayly laugh 
and chat together, and the yacht still glides on 
over the sun-bathed waves, with light and bright- 
ness all about them, and the sky clear and blue 
overhead. 

But the wind no longer blows with steady, sus- 
tained force. At times it almost dies out ; then 
again, returns in fitful puffs of steadily increasing 
strength, that at one moment fill out the sails, 
and the next, leave them flapping undecidedly 
against the mast. Broken now at intervals is the 
measured cadence of the vessel's rise and fall as it 
sweeps over the restless bosom of the sea, and the 
yacht's bow meets, every now and then, waves 
that buffet it and set her sides a-quiver. 

The sailing master looks at the sky with in- 
creasing frequency. At length he calls one of 
the sailors to the wheel, and approaches Raoul 
Alexander. He whispers something to him and 
Raoul Alexander goes back with him to the 
wheel. 


136 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“You think there is a chance of a storm ?" 
he asks. 

“Yes, Excellency," answers the sailing master, 
“ I think there are signs of it. Half an hour ago 
I saw a cloud low down astern. It has spread 
and risen since, until now, see ! the sky over 
there is darkened by it. The wind shifts and is 
irregular, and the waves are growing stronger. 
Storms, as your Excellency knows, no doubt, 
come up very fast in these waters." 

“You think, then, we should return?" 

“ I think it would be wise, Excellency." 

“ Very well ; put about ! " 

The sailing master takes the wheel and gives 
his orders to his men. Once more the yacht 
turns her bow, this time landward ; no longer fly- 
ing freely before the breeze, but against the wind 
now, and tacking first on this course, then on 
the other, in the effort to coax the wind to fill 
her sails. 

“We are going back?" asks Edith, noticing 
these manoeuvres. 

“Yes," replies Raoul Alexander. “ It is nearly 
three o’clock, and it will take us longer to return 
than it did to sail out, as the wind is now against 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 


137 


“ Look ! ” exclaims Edith, suddenly, her eyes 
turned toward the sky, fast clouding darkly to the 
north ; “ doesn’t that look like a storm? ” 

“ Rain,” mutters Raoul Alexander, with as- 
sumed carelessness, “ rain, most probably.” 

Now that her notice has been attracted, how- 
ever, Edith notes with increasing attention, the 
changed appearance of the sea, the fitful, gusty 
character of the wind, the rapidly growing dark- 
ness of the northern sky, and little as she knows 
about these matters it seems to her that these 
signs bode something more ominous than mere 
rain. Raoul Alexander talks to her gayly as ever 
and seeks in every way to chain her attention, 
but in this she more than half detects the ruse to 
guard her from alarm. 

Now that the yacht is forced to battle against 
the cross seas and a head wind, there is no longer 
the pleasant, undulating motion of her earlier 
course. The vessel makes sudden plunges and 
upward bounds as the waves recede or rise, and 
staggers heavily from time to time as the sea 
dashes against the bow and sides, and plashes 
the deck with spray. 

Each moment the dark clouds to the north 
spread darker and darker ; the wind, still fitful, 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


138 

begins to change its petulance to anger ; the 
waves rise to higher heights, sink to lower 
depths, their crests whiter and more foam laden. 

The tossing of the vessel has already brought 
pallor to Mrs. Enright’s face, and she begs the 
aid of Baron Barr’s arm to assist her to the 
cabin. 

“Won’t you go below, too?” Raoul Alexan- 
der asks Edith. 

“ No,” she answers, quickly. “ Please let me 
stay. I would rather face the storm here than 
shut up in the cabin.” 

He smiles to her reassuringly. 

“On board this vessel,” he rejoins, with 
courtly air, “ your will shall ever be our law.” 

His last words are rendered almost inaudible 
by a sharp and sudden shriek of the fast rising 
wind ; the storm clouds have spread rapidly ; 
the whole sky is now black. 

The sailing master has by this time completed 
his preparations to meet the coming storm. The 
awning covering the after deck has been re- 
moved ; the sails reefed ; everything is taut and 
shipshape. 

Raoul Alexander and Edith stand aft near the 
wheel, holding the rail. 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 1 39 

“You are not afraid?’' he whispers, caress- 
ingly. 

“ Not so very much,” she answers, bravely. 
“ Not as much afraid as I should be below,” she 
adds, hastily, fearing he is about to insist upon 
her going to the cabin. 

Her face is grave and slightly pale, but the lips 
are firm, and the eyes look out steadily into the 
blackness of the storm. 

“ I really ought to insist upon taking you 
below,” he says. “ It is hardly safe for you 
here.” 

“You said you would let me have my way,” 
she pleads. “Won’t you keep your word ? ” 

Raoul Alexander bends over her. 

“Yes,” he murmurs, completely carried away 
by the sweetness of her pleading; “how can I 
say no to you — how can I refuse you anything ! ” 

She glances up at him with a look of gratitude 
— a look that sets his heart to beating wildly, 
while the wind blusters and howls and the spray 
falls thicker and faster upon the deck. Despite 
the uproar about them, Raoul Alexander’s 
thoughts are not of the storm. He is at the 
moment half regretting that he is of royal race, 
the heir to a throne, instead of Some simple 


140 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

nobleman or gentleman, free to openly woo and 
win this sweet girl at his side after the manner of 
other men. Decidedly, he reflects, royalty has 
its drawbacks. At the moment, he finds that 
the royal purple chafes. 

And now there is a sudden lull. The wind 
seems to die away; there is an instant of unnat- 
ural stillness. Then, with a sudden shriek, 
answered by a sullen roar from the sea, the 
wind is upon them again. 

The storm, in its full fury, has burst. 

Grasping the rail firmly, Raoul Alexander 
passes his arm around Edith’s waist and draws 
her to him. Even in this moment of excite- 
ment and danger, he experiences a thrill as he 
holds her thus in this close contact, in this near 
embrace. 

The bow of the yacht rears upward under a 
rising wave, leaving the stern hanging low in the 
trough of the sea, when at that instant a sec- 
ond wave breaks over the stern and sweeps the 
decks. It is only by the exertion of his utmost 
strength that Raoul Alexander saves himself 
and Edith from being swept away and into the 
sea. 

Hardly have his eyes cleared themselves of the 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 141 

blinding spray when he grasps her hands and 
puts them again on the rail. 

“ Hold fast ! Hold fast ! ” he cries, warningly, 
and springs to the wheel. 

Not a moment too soon does he seize it. 

The wave that swept the after deck has struck 
the sailing master full force, and carrying him 
with it has dashed him violently against the rail. 
He lies there on the deck, half stunned and help- 
less, and the wheel, wrenched from his grasp, no 
longer guides the vessel. The bow swings 
around ; another moment and the seas, striking 
broadside on, would have engulfed them. 

But Raoul Alexander’s strong arms have 
forced the wheel back and hold it firm, and his 
orders ring out to the sailors, as the vessel veers 
around and makes head to the seas. 

At this critical moment Baron Barr emerges 
from the cabin, surmising that his aid may be 
required, and seeing Edith standing alone hastens 
to her side. 

“Let me take you to the cabin,” he exclaims. 
“You are in danger here.” 

“No, no,” she answers, quickly, “please do 
not mind me. Help him ; see ! he is in danger 
of being carried overboard ! ” and she looks 


142 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


toward the sailing master who, still dazed, is 
making an effort to gain his feet. 

Before going to the man’s assistance, however, 
Baron Barr seizes a rope and passing a loop 
around her waist makes fast the ends. An 
instant later he is beside the sailing master 
whom he helps, not without difficulty, to reach a 
point of safety. From that time on he occupies 
himself in bearing help to Edith and the injured 
man, and in aiding the crew 

For two hours or more the yacht battles with 
the storm. The wind roars and shrieks, the 
waves dash over the sides and at times sweep the 
deck, and the vessel tosses and sways and 
plunges down into depths from which it seems 
she will never again rise. In the end, however, 
she ever rights herself and struggles bravely on — 
as gallant a little craft as ever fought her way in 
angry seas. 

And through it all Raoul Alexander stands, 
like some viking of old, at the wheel, his fair hair 
drenched with spray, his blue eyes looking 
out undauntedly over the sea. As he stands 
there facing danger unflinchingly, and prepared 
to battle with strong arms and cool judgment 
for his life and the lives of those on board, he 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 


143 


presents a nobler figure than he has ever dis- 
played as the courtly gallant of Parisian drawing- 
rooms, or than he can ever hope to display even 
as a monarch surrounded by all the brilliant 
accompaniments of a royal suite. From time to 
time, his and Edith’s eyes meet, and he smiles at 
her in encouragement. Even in this hour of 
turmoil and danger, a thrill of joy passes over 
him as he intuitively reads in her glance that, in 
this last brief space of time, he has won more in 
her regard than he could have gained in weeks 
of assiduous wooing. 

At length there come signs of an abatement in 
the fury of the storm. The wind is less fierce ; 
the waves less high ; the clouds less black and 
lowering. 

“ Courage ! ” he calls to her, “ courage. The 
worst will soon be over ! ” And she smiles back 
at him gratefully for his words. 

His prediction proves true, for before long the 
clouds — slowly at first, then more rapidly — roll 
back; the wind fast moderates, and the waters, 
though still white with angry foam, no longer 
rise to such threatening heights. The Mediter- 
ranean storm is dying away as rapidly as it 
sprang up. 


144 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


For some time longer Raoul Alexander remains 
at the wheel, but at last, all danger over, he calls 
one of the sailors to take his place and goes to 
Edith. At the same moment Baron Barr comes 
up and joins them. 

“ I must go to the cabin,” he says, after a few 
minutes conversation between the three, “ and 
see how Mrs. Enright is. I do not know if she 
will forgive me for deserting her so suddenly, but 
I felt my place was up here.” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” rejoins Edith, “ let us go and find 
out how it has fared with her. It must have 
been even more dreadful down there than on 
deck ! ” 

She accompanies Baron Barr to the cabin, 
Raoul Alexander remaining on deck to fill the 
place of the disabled sailing master. They find 
Mrs. Enright recovering from a severe attack of 
sea-sickness — an attack so severe, indeed, that 
the storm and its attendant dangers have been 
matters of secondary consideration. Edith 
accordingly remains with her, giving such assist- 
ance as lies in her power. 

When she again comes on deck, she finds that 
the moon has risen and that they are rapidly 
nearing shore. Before long the yacht drops 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 


H5 


anchor, and a few minutes later they are once 
more on land. Their first care is to send for 
medical assistance for the sailing master, who is 
suffering from severe bruises, in addition to a 
fractured rib. This having been done, Baron 
Barr hurries off to find some conveyance in which 
to make the short journey to Mrs. Patterson’s 
villa. The best he is able to secure at the 
moment are two small coupes, each capable of 
accommodating only two persons. Into one of 
these he assists Mrs. Enright, and Edith and 
Raoul Alexander enter the other. 

As they start homeward, Edith begins to feel 
the effect, now that the excitement is over, of 
the experiences through which she has passed. 
A sense of heaviness and fatigue is upon her, 
as she leans back against the cushions of the 
carriage and draws her wet skirts about her. 

“ I have not thanked you yet,” she murmurs 
presently, turning to him very sweetly, “ for all 
your care of me. Had it not been for you, I 
believe that first big wave would surely have 
carried me away.” 

He leans toward her, his heart beating fast, 
intoxicated by her words of praise and gratitude. 
All prudence, all reason, are for the moment 


146 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

cast to the winds. His one overwhelming desire 
is to bring the light of love to her eyes, to hear 
one word of endearment from her lips. 

“ Do not thank me ! ” he exclaims, passion- 
ately. “ One does not want to be thanked for 
serving those one loves. And — you know, you 
must know, I love you ! ” 

Her eyes droop, and the color flashes to her 
cheeks. 

“ Say that you will let me care for you 
always, ” he murmurs, in the same passionate 
tones. 

There is no mistaking the meaning of his 
words. Her bosom heaves troublously, but her 
eyes are still downcast, and she is silent. 

“Will you not answer me ?” he pleads. 
“ Won’t you say you like me — just a little ? ” 

He has taken her hand in his and holds it 
caressingly. She does not withdraw it. 

“ Come ; say — just a little ! ” he urges. 

Her eyes glance upward for an instant into his ; 
then quickly droop again. The carriage comes 
to a sudden stop in front of the villa. 

“Oh!” she murmurs confusedly, “ do not ask 
me now — so very soon. Do not make me answer 
— yet.” 


IN DANGEROUS DEPTHS. 147 

The driver has bustled down from his box and 
holds the door open for them to alight. 

“ Not yet , then,” he whispers meaningly beside 
her ear, “ but soon ! ” 

He assists her from the carriage and, she lean- 
ing rather heavily on his arm, they pass up the 
steps. As he says good night to her under 
the porch, she allows her hand to rest for an 
instant in his, and Raoul Alexander fancies he 
detects a slight, lingering pressure that is as a 
timid caress. 

And he goes home, soaked to the skin, but his 
blood on fire. 


CHAPTER V. 


A FLYING RUMOR. 

Like Mrs Patterson, Raoul Alexander and 
Baron Barr have engaged one of those little fur- 
nished villas, so plentiful in the Riviera, as a 
stopping place during their stay at Bordighera. 
On the morning after the experiences on board 
the yacht, Raoul Alexander is pacing up and 
down the veranda in front of this villa, smoking a 
cigar and thinking over the exciting events of the 
preceding day. 

“It’s wonderful,” he muses, “ what an influ- 
ence that girl’s presence has on me. Why, upon 
my soul, I really believe that last night I almost 
asked her to marry me! To marry me, eh? 
Well, that was going it heavy! Heaven knows 
I’ve been in love with many a pretty girl before, 
but never quite so far gone as this time. When 
I’m with her, I’m capable of anything — any 
folly ! Who knows, if it wouldn’t be better to 
drop the game right now. But then, she is so 
lovely — such a figure — ” 


A FLYING RUMOR. 


149 


Just as he reaches this point in his reflections a 
messenger makes his appearance before the gate 
and advances along the little garden path, a 
letter in his hand. 

“His Excellency, Baron Alexander Barr?” 
inquires the man, touching his cap. 

Raoul Alexander nods a good-natured affirma- 
tive and carelessly extends his hand for the 
letter. As he glances at the superscription, 
however, his careless air suddenly vanishes and a 
flush mounts to his cheeks. 

“ An answer, your Excellency, ” says the man, 
again touching his cap. 

“ Very well ; wait ! ” hastily exclaims Raoul 
Alexander, as he crosses to the other end of the 
balcony where, tilted back in a roomy lounging 
chair, Baron Barr is reading a book. 

“Hector!” he exclaims eagerly, “what do 
you think ! We are being hunted up. Here is 
a messenger with a letter from Von Bieler. I 
recognized the handwriting the instant I saw it. 
Wonder what the old fellow has to say ? ” 

4 4 1 would suggest that you open the letter 
and see,” replies Baron Barr, coolly. 

“ Not a bad idea ! ” laughs Raoul Alexander, 
breaking the seal. “ Fortunately,” he continues 


i5o 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


approvingly, “ the old fellow has had the grace to 
preserve my incognito and to address me as 
Baron Alexander Barr. Look ! ” 

He tosses the envelope into his companion’s 
lap, and quickly unfolding the letter reads aloud : 

“ Baron von Bieler requests an audience with Baron Al- 
exander Barr at his earliest convenience. ” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughs Raoul Alexander, “ not so 
terrible, after all ! What would you answer? ” 

“You will have to see him, of course?” 

“Yes, undoubtedly.” 

“ Well, then, the sooner over the better,” ex- 
claims the Baron. “ How will this do?” 

He draws a small writing-desk toward him, 
and hastily scratching a line on a sheet of note 
paper, reads: 

“Baron Alexander Barr presents his compliments to 
Baron von Bieler, and will be pleased to see him at noon to- 
day.” 

“ Certainly brief and to the point, ” declares 
Raoul Alexander. 

“What higher qualities could you ask of a 
correspondent ? ” inquires Baron Barr. 

“None, ; non cher" assents Raoul Alexander, 
“ and off it goes.” 


A FLYING RUMOR. 1 5 I 

He motions to Baron Barr to seal the letter, 
and forthwith dispatches it by the messenger. 

An hour later Baron von Bieler presents him- 
self at the villa. Cold and formal of manner at 
all times, his bearing upon this occasion is for- 
mality and iciness itself. He regards Raoul Al- 
exander as in open rebellion to the Sovereign, 
and is bent upon marking alike his own personal 
disapproval and the displeasure of his master, 
the King. In the coldest and briefest possible 
phrases, he explains the object of his mission. 
He is the bearer of a message from His Majesty, 
the King, to which an immediate reply is com- 
manded. With these words, he hands Raoul 
Alexander a letter, stamped with the King’s pri- 
vate seal. 

Raoul Alexander reads the letter from his 
royal father, and realizes from its tone that fur- 
ther resistance is impossible. Very curtly and 
very clearly the King puts the twoalternatives — 
either immediate return, or a pledge to embark 
upon a cruise of not less than a year’s duration. 

“ A cruise to last not less than a year ! ” ex- 
claims Raoul Alexander. “ Hem ! they are bent 
upon getting rid of me for a good long spell ! ” 

“If you take that view,” answers Baron von 


52 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


Bieler, “ permit me to point out to you that you 
still have the alternative of returning home.” 

Raoul Alexander, however, gives little heed to 
this suggestion. 

“ With whom will lie the selection of the mem- 
bers of the party accompanying me on this expe- 
dition ? ” he asks. “ With me ?” 

“ With you ! ” exclaims Baron von Bieler, 
dumfounded by the audacity of this proposition, 
and by the results which he foresees, even at a 
glance, its adoption would entail ; “ with you ! 
Oh, no ; not by any means. The selection will 
lie absolutely — most absolutely — with His Maj- 
esty, the King. Your personal following will be 
strictly limited to three attendants, or compan- 
ions — to three males,” he hastens to add cau- 
tiously, and as if to avoid any possible misunder- 
standing. 

“Am I not to be allowed even a typewriter?” 
asks Raoul Alexander, with an attempt at face- 
tiousness. 

“Three male souls,” repeats the Baron, dog- 
matically. 

“ Nor a female barber? ” 

“This is no subject for levity,” declares Baron 
von Bieler, with dignity. 


A FLYING RUMOR. 


153 


“ I should say not ! ” rejoins Raoul Alexander, 
ruefully. “ How long will it take to make the 
yacht ready ? ” 

“ It is hoped to complete the work in six 
weeks,” answers the Baron. 

“Six weeks ; that means two months,” reflects 
Raoul Alexander ; “ there are always delays in 
these matters. Well, anything is better than to 
be bored to death out there.” 

“ I think I shall have no difficulty in arriving 
at a decision,” he says aloud. 

“ Under the nature of my instructions you 
have twenty-four hours in which to decide,” 
answers Baron von Bieler. 

“Not necessary,” declares Raoul Alexander; 
“ I will take the yacht.” 

“ The cruise to last not less than one year? ” 

“Yes,” assents Raoul Alexander, with a wry 
face. 

“And you pledge yourself to embark the mo- 
ment the yacht is ready ? ” 

“ I so pledge myself.” 

Baron von Bieler rises, evidently regarding his 
mission as accomplished, and is about to at once 
withdraw. Raoul Alexander stops him, however, 
with questions relative to the health of the royal 


154 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


family, and even extends an invitation to the 
Baron to dine with him before his departure. 
The Baron promptly declines this invitation, and 
answers the questions put to him with extreme 
brevity. He makes no concealment of his haste 
to be off, and of his disinclination to in any way 
countenance one who has placed himself in such 
open contumacy to the will of the King. 

The royal ambassador once gone, Raoul Alex- 
ander immediately rejoins Baron Barr. 

“ Well,” he cries, “ it seems that I am doomed 
to exile. I have been sentenced to banishment 
to the North Pole, or some other place of the 
kind for a year to come.” 

“ Get them to make it the Fiji Islands,” sug- 
gests Baron Barr. “ The costumes of the ladies 
there will at least in some degree awaken sou- 
venirs of the Paris ballet. But come ; let me hear 
the terms of this edict of banishment.” 

Raoul Alexander, with mournful mien, de- 
scribes the nature of the ultimatum presented to 
him and the decision he has reached. 

“You will accompany me, Hector?” asks 
Raoul Alexander, a slight accent of eagerness in 
his voice. 

“Yes; how can I do otherwise ? ” cries Baron 


A FLYING RUMOR. 1 55 

Barr, lightly. “ It shall not be said that I deserted 
you in your exile.” 

A pleased expression crosses Raoul Alexan- 
der's face — an expression his companion is grati- 
fied to note. He is glad to feel himself of ser- 
vice to his royal friend — not only because he 
takes sincere pleasure in Raoul Alexander’s com- 
panionship, there being so many points of simi- 
larity of taste between them, but also with a 
view to future contigencies. The Baron’s for- 
tune, never a very large one, has been yearly be- 
coming more and more involved under the strain 
of gay life in Paris, and he dimly realizes the 
possibility of days of enforced retrenchment and 
obscurity in the future. Should those days ever 
come, it may — despite the proverbial ingratitude 
of kings — prove very convenient to have a reign- 
ing monarch as an old-time friend. 

“You have still six weeks,” continues the 
Baron, reflectively. 

“ Say two months ! ” exclaims Raoul Alex- 
ander, eagerly. “ There is sure to be some 
delay.” 

“Two months, then, if you will. You are, of 
course, at liberty to spend these two months 
as you please. What do you say to Paris ? The 


156 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


trouble there has all blown over by this time, and 
there can be no objection to your return.” 

“Yes, we will go back to Paris,” answers Raoul 
Alexander, quickly, “ and enjoy the brief respite 
before us to the very full, I warrant you. But I 
don’t want to return yet — not for just a little 
while yet.” 

“ I understand,” rejoins Baron Barr, with a 
meaning smile, “but remember we have not 
much time before us — not much time to lose.” 

“To lose!” echoes Raoul Alexander, “you 
call this losing time. Ah, when I think of her, I 
feel like abdicating my rights to the throne, so as 
to be left at liberty to enjoy myself, without 
bother or hindrance, as suits my fancy.” 

“ Don’t do that,” argues Baron Barr, sagely. 
“ Thrones are scarce ; American girls plenty. 
Why not make up our minds to be ready to leave 
some day next week ? ” 

“ Some day next week ! ” repeats Raoul Alex- 
ander, thoughtfully. “Yes,” he adds slowly, “I 
shall then, perhaps, be ready.” 

In the course of the afternoon they call at 
Mrs. Patterson’s villa. The day is an unusually 
hot one, and they find their hostess, Mrs. En- 
right and Edith seated in the coolest recess of 


A FLYING RUMOR. 


IS; 


the piazza, all three reading. After the first 
greetings have passed and the visitors have 
seated themselves, the conversation turns upon 
Mrs. Enright’s approaching departure, she having 
that morning received a letter from her husband 
announcing that his business affairs will delay 
him longer than expected, and directing her to 
join him at Bordeaux. Both the gentlemen, es- 
pecially Baron Barr, are profuse in their expres- 
sions of regret over the prospect of so soon losing 
the pleasure of her company. 

“ Ah,” cries Edith presently, addressing Baron 
Barr ; “ I came across an item to-day in one of 
the French newspapers about a friend of yours.” 

“ A friend of mine ? ” exclaims Baron Barr, 
puzzled. 

“ Do guess who it was ! ” 

“ A rather difficult task,” smiles the Baron. 
“One has so many friends.” 

“ Well, then,” laughs Edith, “ I won’t keep you 
longer in suspense. It was His Royal Highness, 
Prince Raoul Alexander.” 

For his very life Baron Barr cannot repress a 
slight start. As for his companion, he drops a 
book which he has been holding in his lap and 
hastily bends forward to pick it up. 


158 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“ His Royal Highness, Prince Raoul Alexan- 
der,” repeats Baron Barr slowly, and, steadying 
his voice with an effort. “ Ah, indeed ; and what 
does it say of him ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing much. See, here it is,” and she 
takes a Paris newspaper — Le Matin — from a chair 
beside her and after glancing over it for an in- 
stant, hands it to him, indicating a certain para- 
graph. 

Baron Barr quickly runs his eye over the lines, 
and then reads the item aloud : 

It is whispered in diplomatic circles that there exists a 

serious rupture between the King of H and the heir 

apparent, His Royal Highness, Prince Raoul Alexander, 
whose rather sudden departure from Paris some time ago 
caused such poignant regret in various circles both of the 
gay and of the fashionable world. The present whereabouts 
of the Prince are not known, but there is a further rumor 
that he is honoring with his attentions an unknown 
American girl, with whom he is said to have been greatly 
impressed prior to his departure from Paris. This rumor is 
all the more peculiar in view of the dislike which the 
Prince is said to have hitherto had for Americans. 

Having finished the reading of this paragraph, 
Baron Barr looks up : 

“ A very extraordinary item ! ” he remarks. 


A FLYING RUMOR. 


159 


“ Extraordinary — why?” asks Edith. 

“ Very impertinent, to say the least.” 

“ Impertinent ! ” interposes Mrs. Enright ; “you 
think so? You ought to see some of the per- 
sonal items in the Chicago newspapers. Do you 
also know this Prince?” she asks, turning to 
Raoul Alexander. 

“ Like a brother!” responds the latter, braz- 
enly. 

“ What is he like ? ” 

“ Like ?” echoes Raoul Alexander. “Let me 
see ; how would you describe him, Hector? ” 

“Decidedly charming,” declares Baron Barr 
emphatically. 

“ I shall never forget,” says Edith, with a 
smile, “ Baron Barr’s dismay when at the Ameri- 
can minister’s ball I told him that I did not care 
to meet his friend, the Prince. Come, now ; con- 
fess you thought me very rude.” 

“ I could never think that,” replies the Baron 
gallantly, “ but I did think that if you had met 
His Highness, you would, perhaps, have modified 
your views.” 

“ Never ; from what I have heard of him. I 
think he must be simply detestable.” 

“ Ah ! you must surely have been misinformed 


i6o 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


with regard to him,” exclaims Baron Barr 
quickly. 

“ I think not. From what I have been told I 
have a strong idea that he is a self-sufficient 
creature, who has an idea — because of his rank, 
probably — that every woman must fall in love 
with him at sight.” 

“ Calumny — gross calumny ! I felt sure your 
informant had misled you,” laughs Baron Barr, 
inwardly much amused by the situation. “ What 
do you say, Alec ? ” he adds, turning with a 
malicious twinkle in his eye to the luckless Raoul 
Alexander. 

“ I wonder who the American girl they speak 
of can be,” murmurs the latter, bent on creating 
a diversion. 

“ She can’t be much, you may be sure of 
that ! ” retorts Edith, with a pert toss of the 
head. 

“ Ah, you think not ? ” 

No, or she would not bring her country- 
women into disgrace by permitting the attentions 
of such a man. It is American women of this 
kind, who allow themselves to be ridiculously 
carried away simply because a man happens to 
be of high rank— which, by the way, is totally 


A FLYING RUMOR. l6l 

contrary to all our American ideas of equality — 
whose behavior brings Americans into contempt. 
It is on this account that the assertion is so often 
made that American women are simply mad after 
titles. It makes me quite angry to think of it. 
And the paper, too, speaks of this person being 
‘ honored ’ by the prince’s attentions. Honored ! 
Just think of it ! I should call it something the 
reverse.” 

“ My dear, my dear !” interposes Mrs. Patter- 
son, feeling that her niece is allowing herself to 
be somewhat carried away. 

“ I mean it. Auntie,” exclaims Edith warmly. 
“ Then, too, it says that he dislikes Americans.” 

“You really must accord me some day the 
pleasure of making a presentation,” declares 
Baron Barr, teasingly. 

“ I fear you would be sorry if you did, quickly 
answers Edith ; “ for this prince would certainly 
find that there was at least one American woman 
who returned his dislike in full measure. 

“My dear! ’’again exclaims Mrs. Patterson; 
“ you are really too pronounced in your views ; ” 
and she hastens to turn the subject of conversa- 
tion. 

Raoul Alexander’s face, which is partly con- 


1 62 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

cealed every now and then by the newspaper 
which he has carelessly picked up, is a study of 
shifting color during the progress of this ani- 
mated talk. He is deeply wounded ; sorely 
offended by the contemptuous words which have 
fallen from the lips of this American girl. Never 
in all the course of his rose-strewn and flattered 
existence has his august personality been so 
rudely dealt with — never, at least, in his hearing. 
To think that he, a royal highness, should be 
thus disdainfully referred to by an obscure Amer- 
ican girl — the daughter of an individual who 
was a vender of pork! It is not without some 
difficulty that he maintains his usual demeanor 
during the rest of their stay. 

“ Well,” exclaims Baron Barr, after they have 
ridden part of the way home in silence, “ your 
American charmer does not seem to be very 
much in love with a certain royal highness.” 

Raoul Alexander turns upon him, his face 
deeply flushed. 

“ Wait ! ” he cries, passionately, “ wait ! The 
day may yet come when it will be very different 
— when she will pant and kiss and cling for a 
smile from this same royal highness she affects 
t so greatly to abhor, There may yet be a change 


A FLYING RUMOR. 163 

— a very great change — in the burthen of her 
song ! ” 

“ I hope it may come soon, then,” rejoins the 
Baron. “ I am getting a trifle bored here. I am 
longing for the return to Paris.” 

“ Then your wish shall soon be gratified,” 
retorts the prince. “ Come ; let us ride faster. 
Let us get home and — talk.” 

When they reach their villa, they are closeted 
together for some time. After they have dined, 
the conference is resumed. It is seldom either 
of them goes to bed early, but upon this occa- 
sion they sit up even later than usual, talking far 
into the night. 

Immediately after breakfast next morning 
they mount their horses, and traverse the short 
distance separating Bordighera from the French 
frontier. Passing over into French territory, 
they ride into the pretty town of San Raphael. 


CHAPTER VI. 


MME. DE COLLIGNY’S HOSPITALITY. 

ONE afternoon early in the following week 
Edith, followed by her groom, is riding along 
one of the well-kept, picturesque roads which 
stretch in various directions from Bordighera. 
The day is a supremely beautiful one, somewhat 
cooler than usual — just the kind of a day for the 
enjoyment of horseback riding in its perfection. 

Having passed over a stretch of level road at 
a brisk gallop, she comes to some undulating 
ground along which she walks her horse, gazing 
dreamily the meantime over the dainty bits of 
scenery which successively open up before her. 
Presently, as she approaches a narrow path 
bordered by trees, jutting off to the right, her 
horse suddenly pricks up his ears, startled by the 
sound of hoofs, and an instant later two horse- 
men emerge from the path at a sharp gallop and 
swing around into the main road. Quickly 
glancing up, Edith recognizes Raoul Alexander 
and Baron Barr. 


MME. DE COLLIGNY’S HOSPITALITY. [6$ 

So close are they, and so suddenly have they 
come upon her, that her horse gives a frightened 
neigh, and prances and swerves excitedly. 

In an instant the two are beside her. 

“ I am afraid we almost frightened your horse ! 
Pray forgive our carelessness ! ” exclaim Raoul 
Alexander and Baron Barr in a breath. 

Quickly Edith — a very fair horsewoman — has 
brought her steed into subjection. 

“ We were a little startled,” she answers, smil- 
ing pleasantly. “ You came upon us so unex- 
pectedly. Altogether my fault, though ! I should 
give Mountain Boy more exercise ; hg wouldn’t 
be so restive then.” 

“Restive!” exclaims Baron Barr; “there is 
nothing like a sharp gallop to cure that. Will 
you permit us to accompany you down the 
road ? ” 

Edith signifies her acquiescence, and they can- 
ter away together. Turning first to the left and 
then again. to the right, they have soon reached 
the frontier and are riding upon French soil. 
They press on a little further, through a country 
simply marvellous in its wealth of natural beauty, 
and presently perceive before them the white 
walls of a pretty little village. 


66 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“ San Raphael,” murmurs Raoul Alexander, in 
answer to an inquiry from Edith. 

“ Ah, we are already in France ? ” 

“ Ves ; we have crossed the frontier.” 

“ Let us ride over as far as San Raphael,” sug- 
gests Baron Barr, “ and pass through the village. 
There are some remarkably beautiful gardens 
there — remarkably beautiful even for these parts.” 

“Yes” assents Raoul Alexander, “ they are 
indeed wonderful. I noticed them the other day 
when I rode over to see Mme. de Colligny. 
“Mme. de Colligny,” he adds, in a explanatory 
tone, turning to Edith, “ is a distant relative of 
ours, who happens to live in San Raphael.” 

Edith glances at the sky, which has become 
somewhat overcast during the past few minutes. 

“ Do you think we had better go so far,” she 
asks, doubtfully. 

“Far!” echoes Baron Barr, “why, we are 
almost there.” 

“ It looks like rain.” 

“ A mere passing cloud,” says Raoul Alexander, 
carelessly. “ Besides, even if there is a shower, 
we could get under shelter more easily in the 
village than on the open road.” 

The force of this observation is obvious, and 


MME. DE COLLIGNY’S HOSPITALITY. 167 

offering no further objection, Edith gives rein to 
her horse and a few minutes later they are in 
San Raphael. 

Baron Barrs praise of the beauty of the place 
has certainly not been exaggerated, the gardens 
surrounding some of the villas being simply 
marvels of loveliness. The grounds of one resi- 
dence in particular — that of a world-famed pop- 
ular writer — specially attract their admiring atten- 
tion, and Edith enthusiastically admits that San 
Raphael indeed well repays the trouble of a 
visit. 

Presently Raoul Alexander begins to manifest 
a sudden interest in the sky, which still remains 
slightly overcast. 

“ I am afraid you were right after all ! ” he ex- 
claims, as they are passing through one of the 
village streets. “ I believe there is going to be a 
shower.” 

Edith, however, seems little troubled by this 
contingency, her attention apparently almost 
entirely monopolized by the beauties about her. 

“ We can easily get under shelter here,” she 
murmers confidently. “ And I don’t think it will 
rain. To me, it looks lighter then it did some 
minutes ago.” 


l68 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

Raoul Alexander, however, shakes his head 
doubtfully. 

They have gone but a short distance further 
along the street when Baron Barr suddenly turns 
in his saddle, with an air of animation. 

“ See,” he exclaims to Raoul Alexander, 
“ there is Mme. de Colligny ! ” 

Edith follows Baron Barr’s glance and per- 
ceives, a few houses away, an elderly lady, with 
white hair and tall, graceful figure, standing in 
one of the gardens. Almost at the same instant, 
it seems, the lady catches sight of the party, 
and advances with some eagerness, to the 
gate. 

Both the gentlemen check their horses and 
Edith, under the circumstances, is compelled to 
do the same. The lady opens the gate and steps 
toward them. 

“ Permit me to present Miss Hepworth — our 
relative, Mme. de Colligny,” murmurs Raoul 
Alexander, and the lady smiles graciously to 
Edith as they bow. “ It looked,” he continues 
quickly, addressing Mme. de Colligny, “as if 
we might be compelled to make an invasion upon 
you and seek shelter of your hospitality. We 
have been dreading a shower.” 


MME. DE COLLIGNY’S HOSPITALITY. 169 

Mme. de Colligny casts a rapid glance toward 
the sky. 

“Yes,” she answers, “it is certainly going to 
rain. A mere shower, though, probably. I shall 
insist upon your remaining with me until the sky 
clears.” 

“Thanks,” exclaims Raoul Alexander, 
promptly, “ I think it will be wise to accept. If 
the rain should prove to be heavy, I know you 
will send us home in your carriage.” 

“ With pleasure, ” answers Mme. de Colligny. 

As he speaks, Raoul Alexander is already out 
of the saddle and standing beside Edith, prepared 
to assist her to dismount. For her part, she sees 
but trifling indications of this predicted shower, 
but not wishing to set herself in direct opposition 
to her companions, she shakes her foot loose from 
the stirrup and, assisted by Raoul Alexander, 
springs lightly to the ground. At the same 
instant her groom gallops up to hold the horses. 

Preceded by their hostess, they enter the 
house and are shown into a dainty little parlor, 
through whose open windows comes the fragrance 
of the garden. 

“Your first visit to San Raphael, mademoiselle ? ” 
asks Mme. de Colligny. 


170 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

“ How do you like our village ? ” 

“ It is, I think,” answers Edith, enthusias- 
tically, “ the loveliest little place I have ever seen 
— one big, beautiful bed of flowers ! ” 

“ Ah ; you are fond of flowers?” 

“ Indeed, I love them.” 

“ My man, then, shall cut you a bouquet,” 
declares Mme. de Colligny. “Your groom can 
carry it home. I will tell Francois just how I 
want it made up ; ” and with a hastily murmured 
word of excuse to her guests she is out of the 
room. 

Presently she reappears, and is followed a few 
moments later by a trim French maid, bearing a 
silver tray upon which are wine for the gentle- 
men and some chocolate, in quaint little cups 
of odd design, for Edith and Mme. de Col- 
ligny. 

The hostess rises, takes a cup from the tray 
and personally hands it to Edith. As the 
girl retires, and they sit sipping the refreshments, 
a moment of half constrained silence comes over 
the little party. Instantly, however, Mme. de 
Colligny sets the ball of conversation rolling, and 
not for a moment does she again allow the talk 
to languish. 


mme. de colligny’s hospitality. 171 

Some time later Raoul Alexander comes out 
of the house and walks down to the gate. 

“ William,” he says to the English groom, 
“ Miss Hepworth has decided not to ride back. 
She will return in Mme. de Colligny’s carriage. 
You may take the horses home.” 

The man touches his hat and, leading Edith’s 
horse, is cantering an instant later up the road> 


BOOK III. 

THE MAN FROM THE WEST. 


CHAPTER I. 

A CALL FROM BEYOND THE SEAS. 

It has been a morning of even more than 
wonted activity in the private office of Mr. John 
Parker Hepworth. Messengers have been hurry- 
ing in and out ; dispatches dictated by Mr. 
Hepworth in person have been sent forth by the 
dozen; Mr. Jennings, the general superintendent, 
has been summoned a number of times to the 
private office, and great men in the money world, 
men whose names are known from one end of the 
land to the other, have put in an appearance and 
been closeted in lengthy and evidently highly 
confidential consultation with the head of the 
house. 

Expectancy is on tiptoe among the various 
heads of departments in the establishment and 
many are the surmises hazarded as to the causes 
of all this stir. Evidently there is some big 
movement — one of those monster undertakings 


A CALL FROM BEYOND TIIE SEAS. I 73 

which John Parker Hepworth is wont to launch 
into from time to time — on foot. 

And these surmises are correct, except in this 
particular, that two big enterprises are under 
consideration and not merely one. 

Vast as are the operations in connection with 
the great pork packing and canned meat estab- 
lishment, with its manifold ramifications; tre- 
mendous as is the volume of business in connec- 
tion with the widely advertised and widely famed 
“ Clover Leaf Brand ” — it is all not enough to 
fully engross the attention and satisfy the spirit 
of speculative enterprise of this Napoleon of 
commerce. Hence it is that from time to time 
he enters into large outside speculative and com- 
mercial schemes, not a few of which have set 
the whole financial community a-talking, and 
most of which he has so far managed to conduct 
to a highly satisfactory conclusion, alike from an 
administrative and from a financial standpoint. 

On this particular occasion two undertakings 
are, as already stated, under consideration. The 
first relates to the building of a long stretch of 
railroad through a certain section of the south- 
west — a plan the carrying through of which will 
materially affect the interests of several large rail- 


174 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


road systems and cause no little flutter in the 
stock markets ; the other concerns no less a sub- 
ject than the “ cornering ” of the tobacco crop. 

The railroad matter has been under discussion 
throughout the morning, and negotiations are so 
far advanced that a final conference is to be held 
and a decision reached at noon on the following 
day. The tobacco question is now under con- 
sideration, and Mr. Hepworth’s present visitor is 
a well-known capitalist, himself the head of a 
great tobacco firm. 

“ I tell you, sir,” declares the latter, “ that the 
moment is literally a golden one — that never 
before has such a favorable opportunity offered 
itself. The Cuba crop for the past two seasons 
has been well-nigh an utter failure ; this year the 
crop is excellent as to quality, but small, sir ; 
decidedly small. Under these conditions, I say 
that the whole supply can be cornered with com- 
paratively little difficulty.” 

“ I agree with you in many respects,” answers 
Mr. Hepworth, thoughtfully; “your views being 
largely borne out by the information I have 
caused to be gathered on this subject. What, 
though, about the supply obtainable through the 
recent cultivation of tobacco in Florida ? ” 


A CALL FROM BEYOND THE SEAS. 1 75 

“ A matter entirely in the hands of one house 
— the Owl Company ! ” 

“ Precisely, and a most enterprising concern 
this same Owl Company — one commanding large 
resources and capable of conducting a very skil- 
ful and very energetic opposition.” 

“ I admit it — I admit it fully ; but this 
tobacco cultivation in Florida is a very recently 
revived industry, and is as yet maintained on only 
a comparatively small scale. It has been at- 
tended by marked success, I concede, and is being 
rapidly extended, but as yet the supply is not of 
sufficient magnitude to offer any serious obstacles 
to our plans.” 

‘‘You are confident of this? There will be, I 
am convinced, the chief and only source of ser- 
ious opposition.” 

“ Absolutely confident ; I have thoroughly in- 
vestigated the matter.” 

“ Very well. How much my share in the 
proposed pool ? ” 

“ A million and a quarter for each of the three 
associates in the combination, subject to the con- 
ditions already outlined.” 

Mr. Hepworth comes to the point with char- 
acteristic rapidity. 


iy6 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

“ You shall have my answer by Thursday 
noon,” he says. 

His visitor, likewise a busy man sparing of his 
words, at once rises. 

“ Understood — Thursday noon ! ” he exclaims, 
and an instant later he is off. 

Lett alone, Mr. Hepworth glances over several 
business papers, makes a few rapid calculations, 
and then proceeds to consult some letters laid 
aside from the morning mail for further reference. 
Among these communications, and in striking 
contrast to the large business-like envelopes in 
which they are enclosed, is one little letter bear- 
ing foreign post-marks and evidently addressed 
by a female hand. An unimportant appearing 
communication this beside its serious looking 
companions, yet the head of the house devotes an 
appreciably longer time to its re-perusal than has 
been given to any of the others. 

It is from Edith — a letter written from Bordi- 
ghera and received by the first mail that morn- 
ing. It is a letter brimming over with girlish 
enthusiasm. Everything is couched in a strongly 
eulogistic vein. The air, the skies, the scenery 
are simply “ exquisite ; ” Aunt Kate, too, is 
“ just lovely; ” the strange sights, \b,e picturesqqe 


A CALL FROM BEYOND THE SEAS. 1 77 

people interest her “ so immensely ; ” she is en- 
joying herself “so much.’' Then follows a de- 
tailed narration of how she has been spending 
her time. She tells of a visit to the famous 
Monte Carlo, interspersed with numerous enter- 
taining observations of the various sights she has 
come across, and how they have impressed her ; 
and there are numerous references to a certain 
Baron Barr and his brother, Baron Alexander, 
“ who asks such funny questions about America.” 
The whole letter breathes of a spirit of thorough 
enjoyment and happiness, and seems to reflect 
the glad warmth and gay sunshine of the fair 
land in which she is sojourning. 

And it is this simple, girlish letter that has 
influenced this busy man of affairs to impa- 
tiently thrust aside communications dealing with 
weighty commercial transactions, and give to its 
reading for the second time a good quarter of 
an hour of his much occupied afternoon. 

At last, with a half sigh, he puts the letter 
down and reluctantly turns again to questions of 
business. Presently he touches the handbell on 
his desk. Instantly a clerk appears : 

“Ask Mr. Jennings to come to me,” 

“ Yes, sir.” 


73 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


A few minutes later Mr. Jennings presents 
himself. 

“ Has the statement of the resources we may 
count upon commanding in that railroad matter 
been prepared ? ” asks the head of the house. 

“All ready, sir,” answers Mr. Jennings, dis- 
playing a batch of papers. 

“ Let me hear it, please.” 

Mr. Jennings selects a document liberally 
covered with figures, and has just opened his 
mouth to begin when there is a tap on the door. 

Mr. Jennings steps to the door to ascertain 
the cause of the interruption. 

“ A cablegram,” he explains a moment later, 
turning back into the room with the dispatch in 
his hand. 

Mr. Hepworth takes it, and as he happens to 
carelessly glance at the superscription he notes 
with a slight astonishment that it bears his name 
and address in full, instead of the ordinary single 
word comprising the cable address of the house. 
Evidently not from one of his regular foreign 
correspondents ! is the thought that passes 
through his mind. 

Leisurely turning over the envelope, he breaks 
it open and unfolds the dispatch. Mr. Jennings, 


A CALL FROM BEYOND THE SEAS. 179 


a few feet away, stands watching him and wait- 
ing to begin the reading of his papers. Sud- 
denly, he sees his principal’s eyes dilate as he 
reads, his face flushes and then grows pale, and 
he drops back in his chair with a half-smothered 
gasp. In an instant more, however, he has 
recovered himself and is on his feet, holding the 
dispatch tightly clutched in his hand. 

“Mr. Jennings,” he exclaims, huskily, “ I find 
myself called away — I must leave Chicago at 
once.” 

“ And the negotiations, sir ? ” asks the ever 
practical Mr. Jennings. 

Mr. Hepworth stares at him, as if hardly grasp- 
ing the meaning of the words. Suddenly, how- 
ever, as with an effort, he pulls himself together. 

“They are off, Mr. Jennings,” he exclaims, in 
a steadier voice and with rising inflection, “ off, 
both of them. I start for Europe within the 
hour.” 

“Any bad news, sir?” ventures Mr. Jennings, 
anxiously. 

“Yes, Mr. Jennings, bad news, very bad news 
— the worst news in the world that could come 
to me. My girl, my poor little girl — she is — I 
fear — ill,” 


i8o 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


The unsteadiness has again come into his 
voice ; he shivers as a man struck by a sudden 
blast of cold air. 

******** 

Four hours later Mr. Hepworth is speeding 
across the country as fast as special engine and 
car can take him, bent upon catching the first 
outgoing fast steamer for Liverpool. As he 
dashes through the gathering darkness, he reads 
for the twentieth time the dispatch received that 
afternoon, as if to glean some further meaning 
from its contents. It is from Mrs. Patterson, 
and contains simply these five words : 

Something Serious Edith. Come Imme- 
diately. 

Before leaving Chicago, he has caused the fol- 
lowing cablegram to be sent to Mrs. Patterson: 

Have left on special train for New York. Is 
Edith ill? Much alarmed. Cable full details 
to Buffalo care Conductor Special. 

Throughout the journey to Buffalo he knows 
no rest. What news will await him when he 
reaches that point ? Perhaps none, he reflects 
dismally. Perhaps there may be some delay, and 


A CALL FROM BEYOND THE SEAS. l8l 

he may have to wait for further news until he 
arrives at New York. 

This fear, however, proves groundless, for at 
Buffalo the special is signalled and the conduc- 
tor comes to him with the anxiously expected 
cable. He tears it open, and his straining eyes 
read : 

No Illness, but Something Very Serious. 
Come Without Fail at Once. 

Twenty-four hours later he is on the high 


seas. 


CHAPTER II. 


MRS. PATTERSON’S STORY. 

Arrived at Liverpool, Mr. Hepworth, who 
has taken the precaution of cabling from New 
York the steamer by which he sails, receives a 
telegram from Mrs. Patterson informing him that 
she and Edith are awaiting him in London, where 
they have engaged rooms for themselves and him 
at Morley’s Hotel. 

This telegram comes to him as a sort of joy- 
ful surprise. The distance of separation between 
Edith and him is so much the shorter; he will so 
much the sooner find himself at her side. 
Moreover, the fact that she has been able to 
journey from Bordighera to London goes at 
least to show she cannot be suffering from any 
acute or dangerous illness. 

In spite of Mrs. Patterson’s second cable, Mr. 
Hepworth has been unable to rid himself of the 
thought that Edith is ill ; that she is threatened 
by some physical danger. This has been the 
idea uppermost in his mind throughout the 


mrs. Patterson’s story. 183 

journey across the ocean. To have, therefore, 
proof of the fact that she is up and about, as 
shown by her presence in London, comes to him 
as a great relief and his spirits take an upward 
bound. 

As the train clears the outskirts of Liverpool 
and dashes on its way through the beautiful 
English shires, with their trim fields and neat 
boxwood hedges, a puzzling reflection which has 
already repeatedly presented itself to him while 
on the sea returns with added force. If Edith is 
really not ill, why then has he been so urgently 
sent for? What else than serious illness could 
warrant such an imperative summons as Mrs. 
Patterson has sent him ? Puzzle as he may, 
however, he can arrive at no satisfactory expla- 
nation on this score, and at last he resolutely 
puts the conundrum out of his head, feeling more 
calm now that he is so rapidly nearing the mo- 
ment of its solution. 

Reaching London, he causes the very modest 
baggage which he has taken with him in his 
hasty departure from Chicago to be transported 
to the roof of a hansom cab, and jumping inside 
is driven at the best speed of a London cab-horse 
to Morley’s. 


1 84 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


Arrived there, he finds Mrs. Patterson awaiting 
him in the parlor of the suite of rooms which she 
has engaged. Mr. Hep worth’s first eager glance 
into his sister’s face does not reassure him ; she 
looks decidedly worried and anxious. 

“ Where is Edith ? ” he asks, quickly. 

“ She is here ; in her room,” answers Mrs. 
Patterson. 

“ Doesn’t she know I am here ? Let me go to 
her!” exclaims Mr. Hepworth, eagerly. 

“ No, no,” interposes Mrs. Patterson, quickly, 
anxiously. “ I have to speak to you first.” 

“ Speak to me ! Well, well ; what is it ? ” 

“John,” exclaims Mrs. Patterson, “if you 
keep walking up and down the room like that I 
cannot talk to you. It makes me too nervous. 
Please sit down,” she continues, gravely, “ I have 
much to say to you.” 

Mr. Hepworth, however, seems loth to obey 
this injunction. 

“ Kate,” he declares, “ I will tell you frankly 
that I am just dying with impatience to see 
my little girl. If you are afraid that you have 
acted a little too hastily in sending for me, 
that there was not sufficient cause for your ca- 
bling as you did, spare yourself the trouble of 


MRS. PATTERSON’S STORY. 1 85 

making any explanations. I feel so happy over 
hearing that my girl is not ill, so glad over seeing 
her again, that I will freely and fully forgive 
everything. There ; is not that enough ? Now 
let me see her.” 

Mrs. Patterson looks at him and there is pity 
in her eyes. 

“ It is not as you think, John,” she says, slowly. 
“ I wish to Heaven it were so ! I have not sent 
for you causelessly ; I have something very 
serious, very distressing, to communicate to 
you.” 

Mr. Hepworth glances at her sharply. He is 
struck by the earnestness of her manner. 

“You are not deceiving me? ” he cries quickly, 
and there is an agonized ring in his voice. 
“ Edith is not ill ? ” 

“ No.” 

“What is it then ? ” he continues, with some 
impatience. “ You see how anxious I am. Why 
not come to the point ? Why keep me waiting ? ” 

Mrs. Patterson’s lips tremble and tears come 
into her eyes. Noticing this and believing he 
has wounded her by the brusqueness of his man- 
ner, Hepworth is filled with compunction. 

“ There, there,” he exclaims, soothingly, going 


86 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


to her and seating himself at her side. “ Please 
forgive me for being so impatient, but I have 
been in such a state of anxiety since the receipt 
of your first cable that my nerves are all upset. 
Now, don’t cry any more, but turn this way and 
tell me all you want to say. I promise to be 
patient.” 

To Mr. Hepworth’s unbounded surprise, these 
words have precisely the opposite effect from 
that anticipated. Instead of being soothed, 
Mrs. Patterson bows her head and bursts into 
tears. 

“ Oh, John ! oh, John ! ” she moans. “ How can 
I ever tell you ! ” 

Mr. Hepworth is very calm now. Evidently 
there is, he realizes, something really serious — so 
serious that the dread of its narration has 
brought his sister to the verge of hysterics. 
Like a sensible man he sees that this is a case of 
the more haste, the less speed. No use to goad 
her on and hurry her ; the best way is to let her 
take her time. 

Following out this line of action, he gradually 
soothes her into calmer mood, and at last she is 
in condition to speak. 

Then, brokenly and in disjointed fragments, 


mrs. Patterson’s story. 187 

intermingled with tears, the horrible story is 
gradually drawn from her lips. 

She tells of their visit to Bordighera and of 
their meeting there two young noblemen, who 
claimed to be brothers, and one of whom had 
come to her well recommended by friends in 
London. Disarmed by these letters of introduc- 
tion and by the highly respectful demeanor and 
polished courtesy of these young nobles, she had 
permitted a friendly intimacy to establish itself. 
Not being able to go about much herself at the 
time, owing to the condition of her health, and 
fearing that Edith would be dull in this quiet 
Italian village, she had allowed her to go out in 
company of these two young men — always prop- 
erly accompanied, of course, either by Mrs. 
Enright as chaperon, or by a servant in attend- 
ance. 

All had gone well for quite a time, nothing in 
the young men’s conduct furnishing the slightest 
cause for suspicion or complaint. They were 
invariably high-bred, polite, deferential, one of 
them, the Baron Alexander, being apparently 
deeply impressed with Edith and having finally 
pressed his suit to the point of a proposal. 
What ground would there be under these cir- 


1 88 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


cumstances for suspecting anything wrong? 
How could either she or Edith be blamed for 
not detecting the treachery that lurked? 

And what treachery was this — treachery of so 
foul and criminal a nature that it was hardly to be 
credited as possible in a man not belonging to 
the most abject class ! One day, while out riding, 
he who was known as Baron Alexander had, under 
a plausible pretext, lured Edith into the house of a 
person declared to be a relative ; the groom had 
been deceived by a spurious message purporting 
to come from her ; she had been robbed of her 
senses under the guise of an innocent refreshment 
tendered in the name of hospitality ; a vile crime 
against her had followed. 

Mr. Hepworth rises from his chair, and a cry, 
like that of some wild beast in pain, breaks from 
him. 

Mrs. Patterson, overcome by the force of her 
emotions, breaks anew into tears. 

“ Go on,” he whispers, hoarsely ; “ go on.” 

It is some minutes, however, before Mrs. 
Patterson can continue. 

“ It was long after darkness had set in,” she 
resumes at last, when Edith returned to her. 
The girl came back in a hired conveyance — 


MRS. PATTERSON’S STORY. 1 89 

wild-eyed, incoherent, half-unconscious, apparent- 
ly still partially stupefied by some powerful drug. 

Hours passed before anything intelligible 
could be learned from her. When at last 
she had been enabled to gather from Edith’s 
words some conception of the hideous 
crime which had been perpetrated, she, acting 
on the first impulse, had at once sent for 
the chief officer of the local police. This official 
had manifested deep concern and horror and had 
immediately started out to investigate the 
matter. Three hours later he had returned, and 
had made startling disclosures. He who had 
figured as Baron Alexander, a French nobleman, 
was, it appeared, nothing of the kind. He was 
in reality a prince of royal blood — His Royal 
Highness, Prince Raoul Alexander, heir apparent 

to the throne of H . The accuracy of this 

information was subsequently verified by the 
receipt of a communication from this so-called 
Baron Alexander addressed to Edith — a few 
vile, cruel lines in which he incidentally dis- 
closed his true identity, apparently confident of 
his high station securing him absolute immu- 
nity from his crime. 

“A-a-k!” comes the exclamation from Mr, 


190 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

Hep worth, and in it alike surprise and rage are 
blended. 

In spite of the exalted rank of this personage, 
Mrs. Patterson continues, resuming her painful re- 
cital, she had demanded of the police functionary 
his immediate apprehension. The official, who 
seemed greatly perplexed by this demand, had 
thereupon informed her that the Prince, as also his 
base female accomplice, had seemingly taken their 
departure immediately after the perpetration of 
the crime. Furthermore, the offence had been 
committed on French, not Italian soil, and in any 
event he could not take action in a case involving 
a personage of this importance without consult- 
ing his superiors. He had advised her to lay 
the matter before the nearest American consul, 
or the American Minister at Rome. Thoroughly 
worn out with sorrow and anxiety, and not daring 
to venture any further action on her own respon- 
sibility, she had then sent the cable to Chicago. 
The Prince, she subsequently learned, had re- 
turned to Paris, where he now was. 

At last, everything told to the bitter end, Mrs. 
Patterson comes to a close and looks with tear- 
suffused eyes toward her brother. He sits 
motionless in his chair, his hands tightly clutching 


MRS. PATTERSON’S STORY. 191 

the back on either side, his head bowed upon 
his breast. She goes to him and lays her hand 
compassionately on his shoulder. At her touch, 
he starts and looks up. 

“ Kate,” he whispers, “ I want to be alone. 
Put me somewhere where I shall be alone.” 

“ Come,” she answers, simply, and shows him 
to the apartment already prepared for his recep- 
tion. 

Two hours pass before he returns to the room 
where Mrs. Patterson is sorrowfully awaiting him. 

“ Let me see her now,” he says, in a low voice. 

Silently she rises and leaves the room, return- 
ing a moment later leading Edith by the hand. 

What a change from the blithesome, sunny- 
eyed girl he parted from that bright May day in 
Chicago! She comes toward him now with 
slow, hesitating steps, her head bowed, the color 
all out of her cheeks, her eyelids red and swollen 
as from long weeping. 

In an instant, Hepworth is beside her, and has 
gathered her in his arms, while she, sinking her 
head upon his shoulder, is crying as if her heart 
would break. 

“ My darling,” he murmurs, brokenly, and 
tenderly caressing her hair, “ my own, sweet 


192 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


darling, do not weep. You were never so much 
to me, I never loved you so dearly as to-day.” 
******** 
Throughout the greater part of that night 
Mrs. Patterson, whose room adjoins Hepworth’s, 
hears him walking up and down. Not long after 
daybreak, he is again up and about. Hastily 
slipping on a wrapper, she steps out of her room 
and knocks at his door. He at once opens, and 
to her surprise, she finds him fully dressed, his 
packed valise resting on a chair. 

“ What ! ” she exclaims, glancing at these 
evident preparations for departure ; “ you surely 
do not think of leaving us already — so soon ! ” 
“Yes,” he answers, briefly, “I leave by the 
early train for France — for Paris.” 

“For Paris, John? ” she stammers, bewildered. 
“ For Paris ! What for ? ” 

He turns upon her fiercely, the swollen veins 
standing out in great knots in his forehead and 
temples, his bloodshot eyes glaring darkly into 
hers. 

“ I am going,” he hisses, between his set teeth, 
“to seek justice — justice from the defiler of my 
girl!” 


CHAPTER III. 


“ THIS VENGEANCE IS MINE ! ” 

On the morning of the day succeeding that of 
his departure from London, Mr. Hepworth pre- 
sents himself at the American Legation in Paris. 

In answer to his request to see the Minister, a 
lackey in attendance informs him that the Minis- 
ter is confined to his bed by illness. Does he 
wish to see Mr. Halstead, the F'irst Secretary of 
Legation ? 

“ Mr. George Gorman Halstead ? ” inquires 
Mr. Hepworth. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Mr. Hepworth’s face brightens. The First 
Secretary is well known to him ; he and the 
First Secretary’s father are old-time friends. 

“Take in my name, please,” he says, handing 
the lackey his card. 

An instant later he has been shown in to Mr. 
Halstead’s room and the latter is warmly shaking 
his hand. 

“ I saw your name in the list of arrivals at the 


194 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


Grand Hotel,” he exclaims, cordially, “ and you 
would have had a visit from me during the day. 
You have forestalled me, though, I see.” 

“ Yes; I wished to consult the Legation confi- 
dentially, upon a matter of deep importance to 
me.” 

“ Ah,” laughs the First Secretary; “I hardly 
flattered myself that your call was simply a social 
visit. I know what a busy man you are — every 
minute counts! You want to see us, I suppose, 
in connection with some question appertaining to 
your business relations with this country — the 
new rates on imports, eh ? Well ; that is, you 
know, a branch of affairs more directly in the prov- 
ince of the Consular Department, but still I’ve no 
doubt we can manage to be of some use to you.” 

Mr. Hepworth waits patiently and in silence 
while Halstead, evidently overjoyed at the sight 
of a friendly face fresh from home, rattles thus 
gayly on, little suspecting the storm of grief and 
anger raging within his visitor’s breast. 

“ No,” answers Mr. Hepworth, very gravely, as 
the First Secretary ceases speaking, “ I have not 
come to you on any questions of business, but 
for advice on a personal matter which is, as I 
have already said, of a most serious nature.” 


“ THIS VENGEANCE IS MINE ! ” 195 

“ It shall have, then, our most serious consid- 
eration, ’’ answers the First Secretary, “and I 
think, in behalf of the Legation, I may promise 
in advance our most active interest and co-opera- 
tion.” 

“ Anything I may say I wish to have regarded 
as most strictly confidential,” observes Mr. 
Hepworth. 

“ It shall be so understood,” is Halstead’s 
answer, as he draws his chair nearer to his visitor 
and waits for him to begin. 

Mr. Hepworth sits for some instants, his eyes 
bent upon the ground, apparently choosing the 
words with which to open this communication he 
has to make. 

“ I have come,” he says at last, “ to seek infor- 
mation as to precisely what chances of legal 
redress an American citizen stands under the 
following circumstances. A member of this citi- 
zen’s family — a minor directly under his guard- 
ianship — has been the victim of a heinous crime, a 
crime of the most fiendish and revolting character, 
perpetrated by a person occupying here a high 
rank. The person in question is, I understand, 
the son of a king and the heir to a throne.” 

“ Phew ! ” whistles the First Secretary, aston- 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


196 

ished. “ By what means, may I ask, is it 
proposed to seek this legal redress ? ” 

“ By means of a criminal prosecution, of 
course.” 

“ What ! You are not serious? 

“Serious! I never was so much so in all my 
life.” 

“And the crime — what is its nature?” 

“ Let us suppose it is a crime parallel in 
magnitude to murder.” 

“ Even so : and the offender a prince, the son 
of a reigning monarch ? ” 

“ Precisely.” 

“ Why, my dear Mr. Hepworth,” answers 
Halstead, with a deprecatory wave of the hand, 
“let me say to you frankly that in such a case 
there is not the slightest chance of the aggrieved 
person securing any such legal satisfaction as you 
speak of. It is folly to dream of such a thing.” 

“ You think so ? ” 

“ I am only too sure of it. It would not be 
possible to induce the authorities to even con- 
sider any such line of action in a case involving a 
personage of this prominence. If the aggrieved 
person in question makes a complaint he will 
encounter insurmountable obstacles on every 


this vengeance is mine ! ” 197 

side and will simply have his trouble for his 
pains. The authorities with whom he comes in 
contact will pooh-pooh his grievance. If neces- 
sary, they will demonstrate to him that black is 
white, and will insist that he is laboring under 
some gross delusion ; that what he alleges, as a 
matter of fact, never took place. In a word, he 
will have no chance whatever of securing even a 
serious consideration of his charges.” 

“ There is no sense of justice here then?” 

“ I do not say that, not at least in a general 
way. In this instance, though, just remember 
who the offender is. A prince — a Royal High- 
ness ! ” 

“ Still, a man ! ” 

“Yes; a man, but a man of royal blood, 
related no doubt to half the crowned heads in 
Europe. You don’t imagine for a moment, do 
you, that in behalf of this American citizen the 
government of France is going to get itself into 
a snarl with half-a-dozen other European nations? 
A Royal Highness in the felon’s dock, on trial on 
a criminal charge ! Why, such an idea would 
simply be laughed at here.” 

“ But is not France a Republic?” 

“Yes; a republic of yesterday, still imbued 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


198 

to the core with respect for blood, rank, social 
prerogative, and all the rest of the appurtenances 
of the monarchical idea. No ; believe me, there 
is nothing to be done in this matter.” 

“ I anticipated all this you have told me/’ 
answers Mr. Hepworth, making a motion to rise, 
“ but I still wished to have the Legation’s 
advice.” 

“ One moment ! ” exclaims Halstead ; “ you 
seem particularly interested in this matter. May 
I ask if it is one in which you are personally con- 
cerned ? ” 

“Yes,” rejoins Mr. Hepworth in a low voice, 
“ most directly and most vitally concerned.” 

Halstead reflects an instant. 

“You know the old adage,” he says, presently, 
“ that a man should conceal nothing from his 
doctor or his lawyer. The particulars you have 
so far given me of this case are quite vague. I 
am very anxious to be of service to you. Will 
you not put me in possession of the full facts? I 
may, perhaps, be able to make some suggestion.” 

Mr. Hepworth hesitates. 

“ It is understood, you know,” continues Hal- 
stead, reassuringly, “ that everything is in the 
strictest confidence.” 


“ THIS VENGEANCE IS MINE ! ” 199 

Mr. Hepvvorth appears to suddenly make up 
his mind. 

“Yes,” he says, “ I will tell you. Surely,” he 
continues, as if in answer to his own thoughts, 
“ no shame can attach itself to the innocent vic- 
tim of this most dastardly crime.” 

Then, slowly and impressively, very deliber- 
ately and very graphically, he relates in sub- 
stance — omitting only any mention of names — 
the story narrated to him by Mrs. Patterson. 
At times his voice varies slightly in its inflec- 
tion ; now, rising somewhat above the pitch of 
its ordinary tones, then, again, sinking almost into 
a whisper ; but there is no visible sign of excite- 
ment, no outward exhibition of anger. This story 
thus told becomes all the more dramatic and 
terrible from the simple directness and earnestness 
of its relation. 

The effect of this recital upon Halstead is far 
more marked and startling than upon the actual 
narrator. 

Almost with the opening words, Halstead 
bends eagerly forward, his interest apparently 
strained to absolutely painful intensity. As the 
story proceeds, his face alternately flushes and 
pales, and sudden tremors pass over him. Pres- 


200 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


ently, seemingly unable to longer restrain his 
nervousness, he rises and begins to pace up and 
down the room. 

At last, as Mr. Hepworth reaches the culmi- 
nating point in his recital, Halstead suddenly 
turns upon the speaker and sharply interrupts 
him. 

“This place — this place where they were 
stopping,” he cries, hoarsely. “Was it — was it 
Bordighera ? ” 

“Yes,” answers Mr. Hepworth, slowly, “you 
have guessed correctly.” 

“ And she — the girl ! Was it your daughter — 
Edith— ?” 

Mr. Hepworth’s face contracts sharply, as if 
under some sudden pain. 

“Why speak the name?” he murmurs, bro- 
kenly. “ Of what use — ” 

In the intensity of his excitement, Halstead 
appears to lose all control of himself. 

“You must, you shall answer me,” he cries, 
fiercely. “ I have a right to know ! ” 

“Yes,” whispers Mr. Hepworth, with bowed 
head. 

Halstead reels back, his hands clenched, his 
face ghastly. 


“ THIS VENGEANCE IS MINE ! M 201 

“ Oh, my God — my God ! ” he cries, in a voice 
in which horror and agony are alike blended. 

“And you,” exclaims Mr. Hepworth, rising; 
“you! By what right have you demanded to 
know ? ” 

“ By the right, sir,” answers Halstead, with a 
passionate outburst, “that I love her— that I 
have hoped to some day win her for my 
wife ! ” 

He stands there, looking toward Mr. Hep- 
worth, hollow-eyed, despairing. Presently, a 
great wave of anger surges up within him. 

“ And this man — this prince ! ” he exclaims. 
“ Who was he ? ” 

“ He is styled here Prince Raoul Alexander, of 
H ,” answers Mr. Hepworth, bitterly. 

“ And his accomplice?” 

“ One Baron Barr.” 

“ Ah ! ” rejoins Halstead, with savage em- 
phasis, “ he, at least, is not a prince and beyond 
our reach, thank God ! He, at least, shall reckon 
with me.” 

But at these words John Parker Hepworth 
suddenly comes toward him, menacing, terrible. 

“No,” he cries, ominously; “I forbid you to 
interfere.” 


202 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“You forbid me ? ” 

“Yes; I forbid you. I claim these men — 
this vengeance, as mine. You shall not come 
between me and my vengeance ! ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


JUSTICE WITHOUT HER BANDAGE. 

“As I have already said to you,” declares Mr. 
Hepworth, when the two men have somewhat 
recovered their wonted composure, “ I antici- 
pated much of what you have told me. Com- 
paratively slight as is my acquaintance with 
European customs, I yet know enough of them 
to realize the difficulties there would be in secur- 
ing redress in a case such as this one. I did not 
wish, however, to trust to my own ideas alone, 
but desired to have them confirmed from a 
reliable source. Hence my visit here. You thus 
perceive I am willing to give law and organized 
justice every opportunity for action, before 
resorting to other measures/’ 

“Before resorting to other measures! That 
means — ? ” 

“ Before taking justice into my own hands.” 

“ But how ? ” 

“ Leave that to me. Will you furnish me 
with a note of introduction to the Minister of 


204 HIS ROYAL highness. 

Justice, so that I may lay my case before 
him ? ” 

“ With pleasure. I warn you, though, that your 
visit will be useless. It will lead to no result.” 

“ I fully agree with you. Still, I wish to carry 
out this formality.” 

Halstead seats himself at a table and rapidly 
dashes off a note on the Legation’s official paper 
to the French Minister of Justice. 

“ There,” he exclaims, handing the letter to 
Mr. Hepworth, “ that will at least ensure you 
an audience ; but remember, I have warned you 
against disappointment. And, by the way,” he 
adds, anxiously, “ you will be careful as to how 
you expose yourself to danger from these men. 
You will be cautious, if only for her sake, won’t 
you? ” 

“ Do not fear,” rejoins Hepworth ; “ a man who 
has faced Southern shot and steel in half-a-dozen 
of the great battles of our late war, to say noth- 
ing of innumerable hot skirmishes, and who has 
had the experience that I have had on the plains, 
has not much to fear physically, it seems to me, 
from two cowardly miscreants such as these, who 
doubtless never in their lives faced an enemy in 
earnest.” 


JUSTICE WITHOUT HER BANDAGE. 205 

“ You are mistaken,” answers Halstead ; “ you 
underrate your adversary. Baron Barr, for 
instance; is quite a noted duelist. He is an expert 
swordsman ; has fought a number of duels, and 
whatever else may be said of the man, he is at least 
no coward. I wish you would let me settle the 
score with him. Since I have been here,” he adds, 
grimly, “ I have made a special study of this game 
of fashionable homicide. I may say that I am 
considered an expert with the foils.” 

Mr. Hepworth makes a deprecatory gesture. 

“Take care of them,” again urges Halstead; 
“ I believe this Baron Barr, whom I have often 
met, to be very cunning, very treacherous.” 

“Cunning — treacherous!” retorts Mr. Hep- 
worth, “ do you believe that they are any more 
cunning, or treacherous than the shrewd men of 
commerce, the unscrupulous operators of finance, 
whom I am accustomed to meet and vie with 
every day at home ? As for duelling,” he adds, 
with a faint smile, and as he shakes Halstead’s 
hand and turns to leave, “ you forget that fencing 
has for years been a favorite form of exercise 
with me. As President of the Fencers’ Club of 
Chicago, I certainly ought to be able to take 
care of myself in that direction.” 


20 6 


HIS R0 VAL HIGHNESS. 


From the Legation, Mr. Hepworth goes direct 
to the bureau of the Minister of Justice. The 
letter of which he is the bearer from the First 
Secretary of the American Legation secures him 
prompt attention, and he is admitted with little 
delay to the presence of the Minister, a tall, angu- 
lar man, of solemn mien, who scans his visitor 
critically through a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. 

Mr. Hepworth explains the object of his visit 
and states the circumstances of the case as he has 
already detailed them to Halstead, the Minister 
listening with due attention and interrupting his 
visitor now and then with some brief question to 
the point. The story finished, the Minister 
remains silent for some instants, his head resting 
thoughtfully on his hand. 

“And what is it you ask me to do?” he 
inquires presently, looking up with a somewhat 
puzzled air. 

“ As it would be obviously useless,” answers 
Mr. Hepworth, “ to apply to the local authorities 
of the place where the crime was committed, I 
have come to you as the chief officer of the De- 
partment of Justice to set the machinery of the 
law in motion.” 

“ But how ? What do you imply by that ? ” 


JUSTICE WITHOUT HER BANDAGE. 207 

“I demand the arrest of this man, who is now 
here in Paris, and his transportation to San 
Raphael to be there tried for his offence.” 

“ Mon Dieu ! ” exclaims the Minister, in undis- 
guised astonishment. “ You expect us to do this ! 
You expect us to summarily arrest the Prince ?” 

“ That, sir, is my object in coming to you. 
Otherwise, what excuse could there be for my 
taking up your time?” answers Mr. Hepworth, 
coldly. 

Having recovered from his first astonishment, 
the Minister quickly settles back into his ordi- 
nary stiff, official bearing. The case is one, he 
declares, in which he could under no circum- 
stances consent to act with any undue haste. 
He must have time for investigation, for careful 
consideration of this really very unusual exi- 
gency. 

He at first evinces a disposition to take the 
stand that he cannot set any definite limit as to 
the length of time this investigation and accom- 
panying consideration will occupy, but under 
Mr. Hepworth’s vigorous persistence, he finally 
agrees to arrive at some decision within ten days. 

Mr. Hepworth waits with all the patience he 
C^n summon together for the expiration of these 


208 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


ten days. In the meantime, he is not entirely 
idle. He causes certain inquiries to be set on 
foot, and is soon well acquainted with the move- 
ments and mode of life of Prince Raoul Alex- 
ander, and of his almost inseparable com- 
panion, Baron Barr. They are, he finds, leading 
a more than gay form of existence, exhausting all 
the pleasures and frivolities of Paris, preparatory 
to the Prince’s departure on an extended voyage 
to foreign lands on the yacht fitted out for him 

by the government of H . This yacht, it is 

expected, will be ready to go into commission 
within a few weeks. 

At the expiration of the time appointed, Mr. 
Hepworth again waits upon the Minister of 
Justice. The upshot of the interview is in ac- 
cordance with Halstead’s prediction. The Min- 
ister is exceedingly polite, excessively amiable ; 
but — that is all ! He refers in a general way, and 
in very guarded terms, to “absence of sufficient 
proof,” “ questions of public policy,” “ the neces- 
sity of great caution,” etc., etc., and concludes by 
declaring in substance that he does not see his 
way to any action in the case. 

Mr. Hepworth hears him to thq Qndi and ther\ 


rises. 


JUSTICE WITHOUT HER BANDAGE. 20g 

“You refuse, then, to punish this criminal ?” 
he asks. 

The Minister protests ; he objects to allowing 
the matter to be put in this form. Mr. Hep- 
worth pays little attention to the protest, and 
somewhat abruptly withdraws. 

This application to the head of the Department 
of Justice is, however, not destined to remain 
entirely without result. Immediately after Mr. 
Hepworth’s first visit, the Minister, feeling the 
case to be one of unusual importance, communi- 
cated with the Department of Foreign Affairs, 
which in turn consulted with the Embassy of 

H . The Embassy, of course, at once sent 

lengthy cipher dispatches on the subject to the 
home authorities, who, fearing the outbreak of a 
serious scandal, hastened to lay the matter before 
the King. His Majesty, greatly concerned, had 
at once dispatched Baron von Bieler to Paris to 
confer with the Embassy, and see what measures 
might best be taken to stifle the threatened 
scandal. His Majesty had furthermore issued 
additional orders for pushing forward the work 
on the yacht with all possible rapidity. 

Within an hour after his return from the visit 
to the Minister of Justice, a card is brought to 


210 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


Mr. Hepworth, bearing the name of Baron von 
Bieler. He cannot recall the name as that of 
any person with whom he has acquaintance ; but, 
always readily accessible, he directs that the vis- 
itor be shown to the parlor of his private suite. 


CHAPTER V. 


A QUESTION OF CASH. 

HAVING briefly introduced himself, in really 
excellent English, as sent by the State Depart- 
ment of H to Paris on a special mission, 

Baron von Bieler approaches cautiously the ob- 
jcet of his visit. 

“ Some days ago,” he begins, with diplomatic 
suavity, “ you made, I believe, certain representa- 
tions to the French Department of Justice?” 

“Yes; I applied for the apprehension of a 
criminal,” answers Mr. Hepworth, coldly. 

“ The application was, you will doubtless ad- 
mit, one attended by somewhat peculiar circum- 
stances,” continues Baron von Bieler, passing 
over the sting in Mr. Hepworth’s words. 

“ No ; I hardly admit that,” rejoins Mr. Hep- 
worth. “ The circumstances to my mind were 
only peculiar in so far as they related to the un- 
usual heinousness of the crime.” 

“ Still,” persists Baron von Bieler, in the same 
conciliatory strain, “you must concede that the 


212 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


rank of the person against whom you bore com- 
plaint causes the case to assume certain peculiar 
features — features quite out of the ordinary 
course.” 

“ I cannot concede,” answers Mr. Hepworth, 
stubbornly, “ that this man’s rank in any way 
palliates his offence. But, even conceding all 
you say, — what then ? ” 

Baron von Bieler appears somewhat discon- 
certed by this abrupt bringing of matters to the 
point. 

“ May I ask,” he continues, after a momentary 
pause, “ what was the precise object of these 
representations made by you to the Department 
of Justice ? ” 

“ The bringing of this man to account for his 
crime, of course! ” answers Mr. Hepworth, curtly. 

“ Mr. Hepworth,” declares Baron von Bieler, 
impressively, “you are an American, the citizen 
of a Republic, and as such it is readily to be 
understood that you are neither in sympathy 
with nor fully comprehend the ideas and methods 
that prevail in monarchical lands. Without 
going into the merits of this case, let me say to 
you briefly, and in all kindliness of intent, that 
there can be no satisfactory outcome to the line of 


A QUESTION OF CASH. 


213 


action you have been pursuing. Why not, there- 
fore, spare yourself effort that can lead to noth- 
ing and only be fruitful of general embarrassment 
— embarrassment to you, to the French authori- 
ties, and to the government which I have the 
honor of representing. Let us rather see if there 
is really no feasible way in which reparation can 
be made you ? ” 

“ For instance ? ” 

“For instance, in a pecuniary way — in the 
form of indemnification — if you will permit the 
suggestion.” 

John Parker Hepworth does not even deign to 
get angry. 

“ My dear sir,” he answers, almost pityingly, 
“you have no idea of what you are offering. 
Even if I were base enough to be willing to con- 
sider your proposition, it would be entirely out 
of the power of your government to offer suit- 
able reparation in the form you speak of.” 

“ How so ?” asks Baron von Bieler, puzzled. 

“You haven’t the necessary cash,” answers the 
American, bluntly. 

“ I do not quite understand!” declares Baron 
von Bieler, a slight haughtiness in his tone. 

“Why, my dear sir,” retorts Mr. Hepworth, 


214 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


“ the matter is simple enough. My monthly 
pay-roll falls little short of the sum total of your 
annual budget. In one section of the United 
States alone," he continues, with almost careless 
contempt, “ I possess, free and unencumbered, a 
straight, unbroken tract of land more than double 
the size of your country. And you speak to me 
of pecuniary compensation! You haven t the 
means, I say." 

The royal envoy stares in undisguised amaze, 
dumfounded by the enormous resources of this 
simple American citizen, before whose majestic 
possessions those of more that one European 
crowned head sink by comparison into pettiness 
and insignificance. 

“ You are right," he murmurs at last, almost 
humbly, “my offer must indeed seem to you 
meaningless. Is there no other way ? " 

“ I can conceive only one other." 

“ It is? ” saks Baron von Bieler, eagerly. 

“ That this man should redeem, as far as lies in 
his power, his offence by marriage." 

“ Impossible ! " cries Baron von Bieler, hope- 
lessly ; “ quite impossible, for reasons of state." 

“Oh," answers the American, carelessly, “as 
far as that is concerned my daughter would in- 


A QUESTION OF CASH, 


215 


terfere very little with your state affairs, for I 
would never permit her, nor would she consent, 
to live with this man as wife. Immediately after 
the marriage she would withdraw to the United 
States, and a divorce might be sought by her after 
a reasonable time. In this suggestion, let me 
assure you, I seek only a means of honorable 
reparation — nothing more.” 

“ Impossible ! ” again exclaims Baron von Bieler, 
“ utterly impossible. According to our customs, 
royalty can only, save in highly exceptional cases, 
ally itself to royalty. The Prince, I assure you, 
were he ever so eager, could not contract such a 
union.” 

“ So much the worse for him, then ! ” 

“ How so — what do you mean ?” 

“ I mean,” answers the American, sternly, “that 
if he refuses me that justice which the law here 
denies me, I will take justice into my own hands. 
I will kill him.” 

“Ah!” 

“Yes; he shall give me reparation — answer 
to me as man to man — or I will kill him like the 
dog that he is ! ” 


CHAPTER VI. 


MAN TO MAN. 

“ What do you think, mon cher! ” exclaims 
Raoul Alexander to Baron Barr as the latter joins 
him as usual at breakfast. “ I have great news 
for you. I have been challenged.” 

“ By whom ?” 

“Ah, that’s the most interesting part of it. 
The individual who aspires to the honor of a 
meeting is none other than a certain Mr. 
Hepworth, of Chicago ! ” 

Baron Barr bursts into a loud laugh. 

“ Ha, ha ! A royal highness challenged by a 
pork-monger ! Who shall say that we do not live 
in the days of democracy run mad ? Why, the 
next thing we know we shall be subject to a 
challenge from our tailor, or our shoemaker, 
whenever we have the temerity to disagree with 
them as to the fit of a coat, or a pair of boots. 
In what terms did you couch your reply?” 

“ Oh,” answers Raoul Alexander, carelessly, 
“ I was good-natured about it. I simply ex- 


MAN TO MAN. 


217 


pressed my regret at being unable to give the 
matter consideration.” 

“And who was the bearer of this absurd 
cartel ? ” 

“ The English milord Clavering — an eccentric, 
as you know, accompanied by another whose 
name I forget.” 

“ Lord Clavering,” comments Baron Barr; “if 
I remember aright, he is at the head of a London 
banking-house. He is doubtless under some ob- 
ligations of a financial kind to this American 
pork man, and hence his acceptance of this 
ridiculous mission.” 

“The most ridiculous part of it,” declares 
Raoul Alexander, “ was the seriousness with 
which he carried out his part. As he took his 
departure he actually had the impudence to tell 
me, with an air of much earnestness, that he feared 
I would regret my decision — that he feared my 
refusal would lead to serious trouble.” 

“ Serious trouble,” echoes Baron Barr ; “ what 
nonsense ! Who ever heard of so much fuss, just 
because a royal highness happened to indulge a 
fancy for the daughter of a man of the people. 
How the times are changed ! Why, if we had 
lived only a couple of generations ago, and your 


2l8 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


Highness had graciously deigned to hint at a 
thought for this girl, I, Baron Barr, as your faith- 
ful follower, would have quietly snatched her up 
some fine evening as she was strolling abroad. 
And there would have been very little fuss 
about it either ! ” 

“Unfortunately,” answers Raoul Alexander, 
with a laugh, “we live somewhat late to enjoy all 
the benefits of the good old times, and to-day 
there seems to be a good deal of fuss made over 
these little matters.” 

“ And suppose there is ! ” exclaims Baron 
Barr; “ it need not ruffle your Highness’ serenity. 
As for this dealer in pigs, should he really make 
himself obnoxious, I can readily find some pre- 
text for seeking a quarrel with him. There will 
be a quiet meeting next morning, and a well- 
directed shot, or a neat sword-thrust, will quickly 
put a stop to further annoyance. He, no doubt, 
is a good deal more skilful in the management 
of hogs than of a sword, or a duelling pistol.” 

“ Not a bad idea,” laughs Raoul Alexander. 
“ I dare say, though, we shall manage to get 
rid of him without putting you to all this 
trouble.” 

They sit down to breakfast together, dismissing 


MAN TO MAN. 2ig 

the subject without further discussion as one 
really not worthy of any extended attention. 

Toward three o’clock that afternoon Raoul 
Alexander steps into his victoria, and orders his 
coachman to drive to the club which he now and 
then frequents, Baron Barr remaining behind to 
attend to some correspondence he has woefully 
neglected, and declaring he will join Raoul Alex- 
ander at the club later. As the victoria starts 
out Raoul Alexander fails to notice that a closed 
carriage, which has been waiting some distance up 
the street, immediately starts in pursuit and fol- 
lows close in the wake of the victoria. 

As the victoria draws up in front of the club 
and Raoul Alexander steps out, with a friendly 
bow to a number of acquaintances whom he sees 
at the windows, he finds himself confronted by a 
a tall, well-dressed man, to him an utter stranger. 

“Prince Raoul Alexander?” exclaims this 
stranger, abruptly, without even raising his hat. 

Raoul Alexander, nodding curtly, stares blankly 
at the speaker. 

“I am,” continues the stranger firmly, and 
very self-possessed, “ Mr. John Parker Hepworth. 
I wish a few words with you.” 

Raoul Alexander, utterly taken by surprise, 


220 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


involuntarily starts, but quickly recovers him- 
self. 

“ I am not accustomed,” he answers, haughtily, 
“ to have strangers accost me on the sidewalk. 
If you have any communication to make to me, 
you must present it in the usual way.” 

As he speaks, he makes a movement to pass, 
without devoting further attention to the person 
addressing him. 

“ You shall give me the answer I seek here and 
now,” declares the American, a sudden huskiness 
in his voice, and extending the cane which he 
holds in his hand so as to prevent Raoul Alex- 
ander from passing. 

“What answer?” demands Raoul Alexander, 
with a sneer. 

“The answer to the communication sent to 
you this morning through my friends.” 

“ Bah ! ” exclaims Raoul Alexander, with a con- 
temptuous motion. “ Let me pass, I say.” 

“ You shall not pass till you answer.” 

In a sudden impulse of anger, Raoul Alexander 
seizes the stick which bars his passage, and 
wrenching it from Hepworth’s grasp, dashes it to 
the ground. The action seems to transform Hep- 
worth into a veritable demon. With his left hand 


MAN TO MAN. 


221 


he seizes Raoul Alexander by the collar, and 
holding him in a grip of iron smites him once — 
twice — a resounding smack on either cheek — 
smacks which are plainly heard by the group of 
clubmen gathered at the windows. 

Instantly Raoul Alexander’s footman seizes 
the whip from the coachman’s grasp and, the 
butt-end in position, hurries to the assistance of 
his master. The porter of the club also dashes 
down the steps with the same purpose in view. 
They find themselves confronted, however, by a 
thick-set man, whose massive shoulders and 
bullet-like head suggest the professional prize- 
fighter, and who evidently accompanies Mr. Hep- 
worth to guard against outside interference. 
Before this ominous figure, both footman and 
porter shrink back. 

In the meantime Raoul Alexander is strug- 
gling furiously with his assailant, in the attempt 
to reach him and return the blows. He is 
powerless, however, before the great suppleness 
and strength of the American. Quick as a flash, 
the latter has swayed him backward and, with a 
sudden twist, hurls him from him, Raoul Alex- 
ander reeling heavily against the wheels of 
the victoria, bruising one of his temples and 


222 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


sinking from the force of the shock to one 
knee. 

By this time the scene is one of much confu- 
sion. The Prince’s coachman is vainly shouting 
for some one to come and hold his horses, while 
the footman, held at bay by the American’s 
burly attendant, is making vain efforts to reach 
his master. 

The American bends toward his antagonist, a 
savage hatred in his face : 

“ Now, will you meet me, you coward ! ” 

With a cry of fury, Raoul Alexander gathers 
himself together and advances upon his assailant, 
bent upon redeeming his discomfiture at all costs. 
At this juncture, however, several of the club- 
men run down the steps and interfere between 
the combatants. At the same instant two 
Sergents-de-ville> attracted by the commotion, 
hasten to the scene. 

“ You will, please, accompany us,” says one of 
them to Mr. Hepworth. 

“Very well,” he replies calmly. Then, turn- 
ing to Raoul Alexander with a gesture of con- 
tempt : 

“Now, you will, perhaps, send me your 
answer ! ” he sneers. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE INSULT AT THE CLUB. 

WHEN Raoul Alexander reaches home, his 
attire in disorder, the sting of the American’s 
blow still fresh upon his cheek, Baron Barr finds 
himself confronted by a being who is little short 
of a madman. 

The valet who hastily appears, prepared to 
render his master much-needed physical atten- 
tion, encounters an explosion of wrath that sends 
him flying from the Prince’s presence on the 
double-quick. For Raoul Alexander cannot in his 
present condition tolerate even being looked at, 
and whatever attention he needs he prefers to 
perform for himself. As he tears off his clothing 
and dashes water over his injured face, he gives 
vent to a string of furious oaths that in variety 
and depth of coloring would outmatch the best 
efforts of an infuriated coal-heaver on board an 
Atlantic liner. So wild, so incoherent is he in 
his fury that it is a long time before Baron Barr 
can gain any correct idea of what has occurred. 


224 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


To deliberately question His Highness in his 
present state of mind would evidently be both 
unwise and dangerous. 

At last, storming and shouting, Raoul Alex- 
ander furnishes at least some particulars of what 
has happened. He was met outside the club by 
that cursed American and, taken by surprise, had 
been assaulted. Yes — assaulted — struck in full 
view of the club windows — before a score or 
more of people ! And, as he recalls these facts. 
Raoul Alexander goes off into another paroxysm. 

“ Bah ! ” exclaims Baron Barr, presently. 
“ Why let this trouble you so greatly? Will he 
not pay for the insult with his life? He shall 
cross swords with me before he is forty-eight 
hours older and, I promise you, I shall lunge to 
kill.” 

But these words, instead of having the sooth- 
ing effect intended, only bring a howl of rage 
from Raoul Alexander. 

What does he mean! Does the Baron for a 
moment imagine that he will yield the satisfac- 
tion of killing this man to any one else on earth? 
A royal highness cannot meet this dealer in pork, 
eh? A million devils! but let him be a pork 
dealer a hundred times over, and he, Raoul 


THE INSULT AT THE CLUB. 225 

Alexander, will not forego the satisfaction of 
having his life. This is the one thing, he feels 
which can heal the insult, which will restore his 
prestige in the eyes of those who witnessed the 
indignity offered him. Arrangements must be 
made immediately for a meeting. 

“ Why do you stand there looking at me ? ” he 
suddenly exclaims, angrily. “ Why don’t you go 
and make these arrangements?” 

“Very well,” answers the Baron, seeing that 
Raoul Alexander is not to be deterred from his 
purpose. “ I am to call upon this Lord Claver- 
ing, I suppose. You take the stand, of course, 
that you are replying to the challenge of this 
morning, and that as the challenged party you 
have the choice of weapons?” 

“What do I care about all that! Anything, 
so as we meet in the morning.” 

“ Pardon me, but these details are very essen- 
tial. This American might choose bowie-knives, 
or some other outlandish weapon with which they 
fight duels out there. Having as the challenged 
party the choice of weapons, you will select 
pistols, of course — since you are a dead shot,” he 
adds, grimly. 

Raoul Alexander goes over to a stand on 


226 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

which a brace of duelling pistols are placed as 
ornaments. 

“ Let it be pistols, then,” he answers. “ From 
one of these I will send a bullet through his 
heart at sunrise to-morrow. Go, now, go ! do 
not longer delay.” 

Baron Barr turns to obey this injunction. At 
the door he stops. 

“ Whom shall I select to act with me ? ” he asks. 

“ Any one — the first you can get ; only don’t 
lose any time. Go to the club ; that will be the 
quickest way to find someone. And,” he adds, 
bitterly, “ you might stop a minute there — and 
— and — hear — what — is — said.” 

“ I will ask De Fontaine, I think,” declares the 
Baron. 

“ Any one, any one,” cries Raoul Alexander, 
impatiently ; “ only go. Not a word as to the 
meeting at the club, though, for fear of any 
interference.” 

Upon reaching the club, Baron Barr finds that, 
as was to be anticipated, the attack upon the 
Prince is the absorbing topic of discussion. 
What was the cause which led to the attack ? is 
eagerly asked, on all sides, and no one seems able 
to furnish any definite information on this point. 


THE INSULT AT THE CLUB. 


227 

As soon as the Baron enters one of the card 
rooms in search of the Comte de Fontaine, he is 
surrounded by a number of acquaintances who 
beset him with questions as to the Prince. Baron 
Barr, however, proves to be decidedly reticent. 
He affects to believe that the trouble has grown 
out of a remark made by the Prince concerning 
an American statesman, and American politics. 
The Prince was attacked with such violence ! Is 
he hurt ? is eagerly asked. Bah ! not in the 
least, declares Baron Barr. He was taken by 
surprise ; otherwise his assailant might have had 
cause to regret his temerity. His foot slipped 
and he received a slight blow on the arm, or 
shoulder — that was really all. The smiles that 
cross the faces of several of the auditors as this 
audacious declaration is made would have sadly 
discomforted Raoul Alexander could he but have 
seen them. 

At this moment, a man who has entered the 
room only a few moments before and has been 
standing some feet away, quietly listening, ad- 
vances toward the group. 

“ I am told,” he says in sharp, distinct tones, 
“that the Prince received a ringing slap first on 
the right cheek, then on the left.” 


228 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


Everybody turns toward this bold speaker, who 
has taken upon himself to so flatly contradict the 
words of Baron Barr, and in the new-comer most 
of those present recognize Mr. George Gorman 
Halstead, First Secretary of the American Lega- 
tion. To the majority of his auditors his words 
give unqualified satisfaction, for the Baron’s 
supercilious bearing and arrogant disposition 
make him anything but popular, but at the same 
time his readiness to resent affront either real 
or supposed, and his great skill as a swordsman, 
cause him to be treated with wholesome respect. 
For someone to meet the Baron on his own 
lofty ground, and “ call him down,” is there- 
fore received with general sentiments of ap- 
proval. 

Baron Barr stares haughtily at the speaker for 
a moment. 

“ I have just said,” he declares, dogmatically, 
“ that the Prince received only a slight blow 
upon the arm, or shoulder.” 

“And I,” retorts Mr. Halstead, “I say that 
I have heard on good authority — from those who 
actually witnessed the castigation administered 
to the Prince — that he was soundly slapped upon 
the cheek.” 


THE INSULT AT THE CLUB. 229 

Baron Barr pales with anger, and his teeth are 
tightly clenched. 

“ Monsieur ,” he answers, slowly, “ when I make 
a statement, I am not accustomed to have it 
contradicted with this degree of positiveness.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ May I ask,” exclaims the Baron, drawing 
himself up, “if you intend an insult?” 

“ Insult ! ” echoes Halstead, with an insolent 
laugh; “you seem strangely dull of compre- 
hension. Let me relieve your mind of further 
doubt.” 

As he speaks he reaches toward the table, and 
taking up a pack of cards tosses them into the 
Baron’s face. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A TRAGIC EPISODE. 

Left alone after Baron Barr’s departure, 
Raoul Alexander strides uneasily up and down 
the room ; unable to rest— unable to rid his mind 
of the sting of the humiliating experience through 
which he has passed. Insulted ! Struck ! And 
in full view of a score or more of witnesses at the 
club windows. Why, the story will be the talk 
of the clubs, and of all the circles of the gay 
world of which he is a frequenter ! Nothing can 
restore him in his own eyes, and the eyes of those 
of his world, save the wiping out of the insult on 
“ the field of honor.” 

With these thoughts filling his brain, he feels 
rest impossible until such time at least when 
Baron Barr shall return with the news that ar- 
rangements have been fully carried out for a 
meeting on the morrow. 

Presently, he falls to imagining the details of 
this meeting. He follows out in his mind’s eye 
the drive in the early morning with his seconds 


A TRAGIC EPISODE. 


231 


to sonic quiet spot in the Bois , or to the country 
in the direction of Neuilly; the arrival on the 
ground ; the carrying out of the usual prelimina- 
ries ; the measuring off of the ground by the 
seconds, and finally the placing in position of the 
principals. He will keep cool, very cool — no 
anger at that moment ; and aim low. Little 
doubt troubles him as to the result ; for, as Baron 
Barr has truthfully said, he is a “ dead shot/’ 

His aim is, of course, as true as ever? Well; 
there is little doubt as to that ; although he has 
not kept himself in such good practice of late as 
at one time, and then his life since the return to 
Paris has been of so decidedly “rapid” a char- 
acter, even for him, as to be hardly calculated to 
steady either the nerves or the hand. Can he 
surely count upon this steadiness of eye and 
hand ? 

He goes to the stand, and taking up one of the 
long-barrelled duelling pistols, levels it at an 
object in the room. He holds the weapon poised 
for an instant, and it seems to him, as is indeed 
the fact in his present excited condition, that the 
point of the weapon sways with an unsteadiness 
that bodes ill of the bullet going true to the 
mark. Ah, if his hand is no steadier than this 


232 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 

to-morrow, his antagonist stands indeed a good 
chance of walking away unscathed from the field ! 
The very thought of such a possibility well-nigh 
maddens him. But, no ; this unsteadiness of 
hand was a mere matter of the moment ; if he 
were aiming in earnest, it would be different. 

An impulse comes over him to put to a practi- 
cal test this theory. He goes to a drawer in 
which are some cartridges, and slips one into the 
cylinder. Then, pinning a card to the wall, he 
steps across the room. 

Could he hit that card near its centre? It 
would have been an easy enough matter for him 
a few months ago. But now ? 

He will soon decide. The shot is not likely to 
be heard, and what if it is ? 

He levels the pistol, and takes careful aim. 
The pistols are furnished with hair triggers, the 
lightest touch bringing the hammer down. 
Twice he drops his arm without firing, feeling 
that his hand has not yet the necessary steadiness. 
At the third attempt he gently presses the trig- 
ger. 

Click ! The hammer falls, but there is no 
report. The cartridge is a defective one, and for 
some reason has failed to explode. 


A TRAGIC EPISODE. 


233 


In his present irritated condition this trifling 
incident is sufficient to exasperate him. With an 
angry curse, he runs to the drawer in search of 
another cartridge, at the same time impatiently 
pulling up the hammer of the weapon to examine 
the cylinder. 

As he does so, in his reckless haste incautiously 
holding the muzzle of the pistol turned full 
toward him, his nervous fingers slip, there is a 
loud explosion, and Raoul Alexander staggers 
heavily forward and drops to the floor, a bullet 
wound over his heart. 

When his servant, who has not heard the 
report, finds him half an hour later, he is uncon- 
scious and breathing only faintly. 


CHAPTER IX. 


GLEANED FROM THE PRESS. 

The tragic end of Prince Raoul Alexander, 

heir apparent to the throne of H , was, as in 

the case of the unhappy Rudolph of Austria, the 
subject of multifarious comment and speculation 
in the newspapers, not alone in Europe, but 
throughout the civilized world. The advocates 
of the theories of accident and suicide were about 
evenly divided. By some believers in the latter 
theory the hypothesis was put forward that dis- 
agreements of a serious nature with His Majesty, 

the King of H , had more or less directly led 

to the act. In other quarters it was contended 
that the Prince’s mind had become somewhat un- 
balanced by fast living, and others again, remem- 
bering the time-worn proverb concerning the 
omnipresent influence of woman, gave birth to a 
highly romantic report as to there being a hope- 
less love affair at the bottom of the case. 

Thus for a week or more the newspapers 
teemed with comment concerning the Prince, 
and not a few among the articles published would 


GLEANED FROM THE TRESS. 235 

have caused unbounded surprise to Raoul Alex- 
ander himself could he have but seen them. 
Finally came the lengthy accounts describing the 
funereal pomp and pageantry attendant upon the 
laying away in the royal crypt — “ mourned by 
the tears of a sorrowing nation,” as the loyalist 
section of the European press pathetically pro- 
claimed. Next day the papers were full of the 
projected visit to Europe of an Eastern potentate 
who, it was averred, would come accompanied by 
a number of the members of his harem; and save 
for an occasional reminiscence recounted at odd 
intervals by some journalist or clubman, Raoul 
Alexander's name ceased to be mentioned among 
men. Sic transit gloria mundi ! 

******** 

The following spring the attention of the Chi- 
cago newspapers was much taken up with details 
in relation to the launching of certain extensive 
railroad enterprises in the southwest — a series of 
enterprises backed by a combination of capital- 
ists, in the list of whom the name of John Parker 
Hepworth, of Chicago, figured prominently. 
Great and far-reaching consequences were pre- 
dicted as a result of the operations in question. 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


236 

A “deal,” it was rumored among other things, 
had been effected with the Santa F£ management, 
the almost inevitable result of which, it was de- 
clared, would be to force the Altonburgh and 
Denbigh road, against which offensive tactics 
seemed to have been adopted, into bankruptcy. 
There was much conflicting discussion as to 
“ tapping ” and “paralleling,” and railroad wars, 
and “ deals ” and “ combines ” — so much, in fact, 
that it seemed difficult for the public to clearly 
grasp just what Mr. John Parker Hep worth and 
his associates did, or did not intend to do. One 
fact, however, was patent — that they were mak- 
ing a good deal of a stir, as was very forcibly in- 
dicated by the feverish fluctuations in the stock 
market of the prices of various shares. 

In the midst of all this hubbub and excitement 
an item appeared one morning in the Chicago 
newspapers in which the name of Hepworth fig- 
ured, but in a connection somewhat different 
from usual. This article, as taken from a partic- 
ular paper, read as follows : 

“ Miss Edith Zelma Hepworth, daughter of 
Mr. John Parker Hepworth, the well-known 
capitalist of this city, was married yesterday to 
Mr. George Gorman Halstead, of Cincinnati. 


GLEANED FROM THE PRESS. 237 

The wedding, which took place at the residence of 
the bride’s father, the Rev. Dr. Beechman offici- 
ating, was an exceedingly quiet one, only a few 
relatives and near friends being present. The 
newly wedded couple will make an extended 
bridal tour through the South, On their return, 
they will take up their residence in this city.” 

And underneath this article appeared one in 
smaller type, setting forth the following facts for 
the edification of the paper’s readers. 

“ The marriage of Miss Hepworth to Mr. George Gor- 
man Halstead is an interesting item of news, not only on 
account of the high social position of the pair, but also be- 
cause of certain past events in connection with the bride- 
groom. Mr. Halstead, who belongs to a highly influential 
family in Cincinnati, was until recently, it will be remem- 
bered, attached to the American Legation at Paris as First 
Secretary. It was while filling this post that the duel be- 
tween him and the French nobleman, Baron Barr, which 
made such a stir at the time, took place. The circumstances 
of this duel, which are still fresh in the public mind, were 
briefly as follows : One day, at one of the fashionable Paris 
clubs, Baron Barr and Mr. Halstead became involved in a 
dispute, the precise nature of which has never been made 
public. It is supposed, however, to have grown out of some 
disparaging remarks made by Baron Barr either as to Amer- 
ica, or to the detriment of some American friend of Mr. 
Halstead, There was a brief but sharp interchange of 


238 


HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. 


words, and the dispute culminated in Mr. Halstead throw- 
ing a pack of cards into the Baron’s face. 

“ Of course there could be only one outcome to this 
action, and the Baron’s seconds called upon the American 
with little delay. A meeting occurred next morning, a few 
miles out of Paris, with swords as the weapons. Both the 
principals were known as expert fencers, and they fully sus- 
tained their respective reputations. A fierce and unusually 
prolonged struggle ensued, which terminated in the desper- 
ate wounding of the Baron, who died in the arms of his 
seconds. The duel caused a profound sensation at the 
time. 

“ Although bearing this record as a ‘ fire-eater,’ Mr. Hal- 
stead, it may be added, is of pleasing manners and affable 
bearing, and was a great favorite in the diplomatic corps 
and society in general in Paris. His many friends in this 
country and in Europe will unite in wishing both him and 
his beautiful bride prosperity and happiness.” 

Will the reader also graciously join in this ex- 
pression of good-will ? 



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science and metaphysics in it to give it spice, there are two murders, a 
trial and conviction of an innocent man on circumstantial evidence, a 
series of confidential domestic scenes, and a dash of hypnotism— surely 
enough to capture the fancy of the inveterate or occasional novel reader. 
. . . . It is a curious but entrancing novel; and once caught in its seduc- 
tive meshes the reader will find it hard to escape. Incidentally some of 
Inspector Byrnes’ peculiar detective methods are severely satirized.” 
— The Brooklyn Standard Union. 

“ It is clever in its way, but trash.” — Ihe Buffalo Courier. 

“ It places the author in the foremost rank of American writers of 
fiction. ... It will live— a surpassingly clever delineation of a strange 
phase of human character.” — The London Times. 

“Philip Henson, M. D., by George Hastings, is indifferent and medio- 
cre.” — The New York Daily Continent. 

“ Philip Henson, M. D. is more than clever— it is masterly. In ex- 
citing and absorbing interest this book excels the novels of Gaboriau and 
De Boisgobey, and the sketches and characters are capitally drawn. 
For example, Inspector Byrnes and his methods have never before been 
so accurately described.”— The Spirit of the Times. 

“A story quite out of the ordinary.”— The Kansas City Journal. 

“ Very dramatically told, and a well conceived and thrilling narrative.” 
— America . 

“ The plot of Philip Henson, M. D. is remarkably strong and tragic. Mr. 
Hastings is a graphic writer.”— The Sacramento Record-Union. 








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